Ca Va Sans Dire
by FreeSpiritedOne
Summary: Set just after the film ends. Evey discovers V isn't dead. The future is in front of them and the man with the successfully completed master plan...well, he doesn't have one for this. Finished...finally.
1. Chapter 1

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**Chapter 1**

Finch was gone. Evey had led him to the rooftop through the Shadow Gallery, but she escorted him out another way. With a grand bang, the Shadow Gallery had transformed into hallowed ground and Finch, for all his apparent good intentions, would never again set foot in V's home.

Walking alone back down one of the many corridors Evey tried to reclaim the numbness, bring back the calm and find the peace V would have wanted her to feel at his passing. V had died exactly as he had planned and perhaps better than he'd expected. He would wonder why she wasn't happy for him.

At the door to the Shadow Gallery Evey paused unsure if she wanted to enter. Without V's unique energy filling it, the place could no longer possess the warmth of a home. This time if she pushed through the door it would be reduced to the limits of its name, nothing more than a poorly lit gallery filled with memories of the long dead past. She wanted to remember it as it had been.

Evey almost turned around and returned to her apartment. She almost allowed V's home to become a shrine, a holy or holies that even she was unworthy to enter.

Her hand reached out of its own accord and pushed open the door. Unlike Evey's expectations the Shadow Gallery felt exactly the same. There could be no doubt V was sitting in one of its many rooms, book in hand, lost in a world of imagination.

It was then that Evey broke down. Slumping to the floor she sobbed until dehydration dried her tears and there was blood in the back of her ragged throat. With effort she picked herself up and walked to the kitchen for tea with honey to soothe her vocal cords and distract her spinning mind.

There was blood on the floor and the counter.

Logical doubt and heart felt hope instantly went to war. Hope might have been at extreme end of foolishness, might have been futile, but as V had taught her, sometimes hope was all there was.

Evey followed the trail of blood down a hall she had never traveled before. At the end a large wooden door gaped open. There was minimal light inside. Feeling ridiculous and terrified of being disappointed, Evey called out, "V?"

"A moment, please." His voice was the weakest whisper.

V need not have asked. Shock had rooted Evey's feet to the floor even as her heart tried to run the distance to his side. The result of her body's miscommunication was that she fell.

"You're here, how are you here?" Evey asked as she climbed back to her feet. _How do dead men walk again?_

"You may come in now if you like."

Evey rushed into the void and dropped to her knees at the side of his bed. The strong odors of gunpowder and blood assaulted her nostrils. "What should I do? We should call an ambulance. Get you to a hospital. We have no phone. Oh God, what do I do?"

"Sit with me, Evey."

Evey had watched enough movies to know what that meant. _He's dying_, her heart wailed, _and there is nothing I can do. Oh God._ "Don't go. Not again. I can't bear it. Please, V. Stay with me."

He chuckled. It sounded more like a gurgle, but the mirth was evident.

"I will be going nowhere for quite some time I expect." V wheezed in a breath and continued, "If you would read to me that would be lovely."

Evey had fallen asleep countless times while V read to her, but she had never read to him. Somewhere in the back of Evey's mind she remembered something about sleep being bad for injured people. If he fell asleep he would die. If she read to him V would fall asleep and he would die. "You need to stay awake."

"I don't have a head wound, dear. When I get to it, sleep will do me good."

Now he mentioned it, Evey remembered the sleeping thing had something to do with concussions. Not that being wrong on changed anything. She still feared he would die in his sleep.

V seemed to know. "I promise, on my honor, I will wake up."

"Watch your eyes," Evey muttered as she reached for and fumbled with the lamp which rewarded her for turning it on by blinding her. Before looking for a book she glanced at V. He looked exactly the same as he had at the tracks only now his chest was noticeably rising and falling. She took comfort in the rhythm.

"So what do you want to hear?"

"Hmm?"

"What book?" Evey asked, as she surveyed a tall stack of books, all with markers in them.

"Something light. There was a Pratchett there I believe."

Halfway down the stack between 'Atlas Shrugged' and 'Emma' Evey found a small purple paperback called, "Witches Abroad". The summary on the back said, "Three witches make the Godmother an offer she can't refuse".

Without thinking Evey said aloud, "Are you kidding?"

V snorted and waved a limp hand at her.

"O-kay." She said while thinking, _V, you never cease to amaze me_.

Evey cracked the book open to the marked page and started reading. V fell asleep within minutes but she kept going. The exploits of Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and Magrat were so engaging she stayed up the entire night, listening to the sound of her own voice keep time with the rhythm of V's respiration. By the time Evey closed the book, her watch told her it was morning, her throat told her it was time for more tea and her bladder said it was time to leave V alone for a few minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**Chapter 2**

In the bathroom with her mind undistracted Evey's thoughts reverted to worrying and guilt. V was breathing which was good, but he had lost a lot of blood. Evey hadn't even bothered to see if the bleeding had stopped. She hadn't cleaned the wounds, or figured out how bad they were. She had offered him no pain killers, no antibiotics (never mind she had none on hand) and no blanket. She hadn't asked a single relevant question, but had instead allowed herself to be derailed by a silly book. It was just like V to do something like that.

Refusing to fall victim to any more of his diversionary tactics, Evey set about making more tea, locating some clean towels and a bowl of warm water, and wondering if he would want to eat and whether or not he should. She made some toast, pulled butter and jam from the fridge and made her way back toward his room carrying a heaping tray.

V was not in his bed, but instead leaning heavily against the door to the attached bathroom.

Evey set her tray down on the bed and sighed. "If you would have waited ten more seconds I could have helped you, you know."

V nodded, "Yes, I know."

"You don't want my help?" She asked, feeling angry and unsure of herself. V needed her, didn't he?

The mask came up and Evey knew he was looking at her. There were times she hated the mask that let him see every emotion flitting across her face but left him impervious to similar scrutiny. Evey had no way to know what he was thinking, but assumed it had something to do with caring for himself for twenty years and doing a pretty good job of it given the circumstances.

When V spoke, rather than remind her of his self sufficiency, he asked quietly, "Evey, help me to the bed, would you?"

Evey crossed the room in record time and stopped in front of him, unsure where she could touch him without hurting him. He put an arm across her shoulders and she heard his pained hiss as the mask descended close to her ear. She had not realized how heavy V was. Tall and thin as he was Evey assumed he was much lighter, but she got him the eight steps to the bed without collapsing.

"I need to replace these," Evey remarked to herself about the bloody bed clothes as he sank onto them.

"Later, perhaps."

"Okay then, tasks at hand. I've brought you some tea and toast if you think you can manage it. If you go for the tea you will probably be needing this," She held up an empty jug for him to see. "I've found a first aid kit and, I'm afraid, there isn't a single book in here that will distract me from taking care of those wounds today. So where shall we start?"

"The, um, jug is an interesting touch I wouldn't have thought of. Very creative. And kind as it is, I don't think I'm up to eating just yet. I'd rather go back to sleep if you don't mind."

Evey had been expecting him to try to dodge her. "That's fine with me after we've addressed those wounds. They can't wait, V."

"They haven't," V replied lifting his shirt just a little to reveal a belly wrapped in white gauze. "While you were in the kitchen I took care of them."

"_All_ of them?" Evey asked wondering if she had really been gone long enough for that.

"Yes."

"Are there any, ah, bullets unaccounted for?" Evey had watched a crime investigation show where they talked about there having to be an even number where bullets were concerned. An entrance and an exit wound or an entrance wound and a surgically removed bullet. Either way, you have an even number. If the number is odd, there is a missing bullet somewhere.

V held out a hand to her presenting two mutilated slugs. "Eight total holes, two bullets."

Evey did the math in her head. She had not considered that even with an even number of holes there could still be lodged bullets. She cringed. "You're sure you got all of them?"

"Yes."

"You dug them out yourself?" She asked, her arms had folded over her stomach and her shoulders had rounded down as if she were protecting herself. Noticing her odd posture Evey straightened up and tried to appear more relaxed.

"Yes." He sighed, sounding as if he were reliving the experience.

"Was that wise?"

"Undoubtedly not."

Evey snorted thinking, s_illy man._ Moving past V she entered the bathroom which looked like the scene of a crime. The water in the sink was a bloody pink and there were drips and splashes covering the counter and floor. V's clothes from the night before lay in a heap in the middle of it, the pox marked mask sitting atop them looking piteously white in the midst of black and red. "Oh God, where did you find the strength to do this?"

Evey had spoken softly but somehow V heard her and replied, "Where there is a will there is a way."

Evey smiled, "That should be your motto."

"It is."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**Chapter 3**

"V?"

"Yes, Evey?" He was sitting up in his bed, reading.

In the space of few days V had improved a great deal. He was more talkative and back to quoting lines from his mountains of books. He also stayed awake for longer stretches which boosted Evey's confidence and made her feel free enough to detach herself from his side more frequently and for longer and longer periods. Thus the laundry was done, the bathroom clean, and meals had improved from toast and jam to more creative fare. She also had time for the telly.

What Evey saw on the screen scared her.

"I have to go up there." She had been watching the news and it wasn't good. Norsefire still had control of BTN and they were filling the airwaves with panic inducing lies. They spoke of riots and outbreaks of St. Mary's and, more dubiously, Ebola. The message of fear Norsefire had always used to keep people in line was being screamed through the airways with so much violence and hate it was terrifying. It was much the same as it had been just prior to the explosion at Parliament, but now the act was done there had been no word from V. Norsefire was capitalizing on his silence. Someone had to say sometime soon or the people would give up hope.

They might already be doing so. The interviews BTN showed with people on the streets made it seem like the masses were angry with V, like they wanted things to go back to normal.

Evey knew it was not entirely true, not yet, but if a lie is told often enough, people will come to believe it.

"I had hoped you would." V's voice smiled at her and Evey had an image of him as a proud father sending his child off to university. She did not like that thought.

Evey rubbed her hand back and forth on her nearly bald skull. The prickly rough then smooth feel of what was left of her hair had become as comforting as twirling a lock had once been. "I want to tell them what you told me. I want to remind them what we were before all this and what we can be again if we stick together. Will you be alright for a few hours?"

V put his book down, giving her his full attention. His head cocked to the left which indicated a question. "Of course, but if Norsefire controls the media, how are you planning to do this, might I ask?"

Evey's stomach flip flopped. She'd known he would ask and she knew she wouldn't lie to him but she was concerned V would not be pleased with who she had enlisted to help her. "I've been back in touch with Detective Finch. He says he has access to the emergency frequency and my message can be broadcast through the speaker network like you did with the music. I'm going to do it tonight when people are at home and most likely to hear it right after the evening news, but I have to ask you something first."

"Anything."

Apparently V didn't care about Finch. An interesting detail that she filed away for later examination. There was a bigger concern on her mind. "Are you alive or dead these days?"

"Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace." (1) V looked away from her, staring at the wall.

Time dragged out as Evey waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. To confirm she prodded, "So you're dead."

V picked his book back up and nodded. "To everyone but you, yes."

Tone of voice and body language were all she had with V and he was usually verbose in both cases. His voice gave her nothing now, but the slump of his shoulder and the slight droop of his head spoke eloquently of loss. To bolster his spirits Evey reminded him, "But the idea will live on."

V nodded, "In you."

_Okay, my friend, clearly a refocus is in order here._ For a man with as much vision as V had, Evey knew he had to have something in mind for after his 'death'. Apparently, it was time to get him thinking about it. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

"What are you planning to do now?"

"The past and the present are within the field of my inquiry, but what a man may do in the future is a hard question to answer." (2)

* * *

(1) Oscar Wilde – _The Canterville Ghost_

(2) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – _Hound of the Baskervilles_


	4. Chapter 4

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**Chapter 4**

_Evey, Evey. There is never a moment's peace with you._

V was alone, lying in bed for what was beginning to feel like forever.

Evey had gone topside to give her rallying cry. She oozed nervous energy as she went clad in a dress that was conservative in cut, but ravishing in red. Juxtaposed against her shorn hair, she was a true sight to behold. He couldn't help thinking about her parents and how proud they would be if they could see her now.

V, on the other hand, was proving to be something of a disappointment. What was he planning to do now? How could such a simple question be so difficult to answer?

Frankly, he had no idea.

"Ghost of the Future," V quoted Dickens from memory, "I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?" (3)

The ghost was silent, curse him.

Evey seemed to think that V expected to survive. He hadn't. It was shameful, but he never thought beyond November 5th. Not true. He had wondered about what _she_ would do, if she would do as he hoped, but it never occurred to him to consider what he would do if he lived. He wasn't going to live.

For a man with a perfectly executed twenty year master plan, to have so egregiously missed a possible contingency was anthemia. How could he _not_ have considered living past the 5th?

V might have looked like he was reading to Evey, but he was not. He was adrift and trying very hard to find a buoy to cling to. He only knew for certain what he would not do. He would not interfere in the new government Evey would shape. Or at least he wouldn't much. Only if it went too far askew. So, baring that eventuality, what was he going to do with the life he still had?

Believing nothing is coincidence, V supposed he should have been grateful for being bed ridden. If ever there was a situation to force him to sit still and brood on the future, this was it.

V hated brooding. It was a fruitless spiral going nowhere and feeding on its own uselessness, but what else was there to do whilst waiting for his abused body to bounce back?

He did not die as he planned and every train of thought leaving the station was derailed by that simple fact. V remembered none of it. He had no idea how he dragged himself back to the Shadow Gallery. Everything he had said to Evey as he lay dying was the Gods honest truth as told by a man who would not have to live long enough to deal with the consequences.

It would be much easier if he were suicidal. He knew enough about death to get it done efficiently and painlessly, but there are lots of ways to die and some cost more than others. To suffer all he had to save the last inch of himself, to give it up willingly now was unthinkable, or at the very least not an option.

Thus V still had the same problem.

_What the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?_

* * *

(3) Charles Dickens – A Christmas Carol


	5. Chapter 5

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**Chapter 5**

"V?" Evey walked into his bedroom glowing with success.

He had heard her speech and found it brilliant. He could not have done it better himself and took pride in the fact she seemed to know it.

"In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth gently towards a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be…yours, Evey." (4) From his position propped up on a pile of pillows V offered her a round of applause and earned a confused smile and a very dainty curtsey. "Brava, my dear. You were a vision tonight."

She shook her head smiling at him. "But you couldn't see me. I was on the radio."

"True, you were, but I still say you were lovely. Aren't imaginations wonderful?"

"If you say so. My knees were shaking so hard I thought I might fall over and I stumbled on some words. It'll get better if I get to do it again, but V, I think I'm really on the radar now. They are going to come looking for me."

V wondered how she had missed the manhunt that had been going on for over a year for her. Aloud he asked, "Does that scare you?"

Evey paused, thinking about it. Finally she shook her head. "Not for myself, no. But you know, since you chose to live and all, I'd rather be with you for a while if I can help it."

Up to now, what V had said at the train had not been mentioned. He knew at some point they would visit it, but was hoping that it could be put off a while longer. He didn't feel in a position to deal with matters of the heart just then, but still…he could not let it go either. "You're afraid…for me?"

"Well, yeah." Evey paused, gathering her thoughts for what he knew was going to be an uncomfortable exchange. "We could sit here and pretend you weren't planning to ride that train all the way to your death, but…if you were ready to start a revolution yet not willing to stay around to rebuild after it, what _did_ you hang around for?"

_Oh. God._

"Since you yourself said your life was nothing but November 5th until I came along and bollixed it, I can only assume the reason you're still here has something to do with me."

_Give the lady her prize, _V thought as he shifted uncomfortably in his bed. Evey was about to pull out the word that struck terror into his heart. Silently thanking God he was a man in a mask V tried to still his body and appear calm as he waited for it.

Evey was staring at her feet running a hand back and forth over her shorn head. "Now, I know people will say just about anything when they think they'll never see each other again but…you said you'd fallen in love with me."

There. Right there V's heart leapt from his chest onto a chopping block.

Evey had couched it in such a way he could back peddle out of it if he wanted, but as V looked at her not looking at him he knew he couldn't. He had promised himself after the ordeal in the cell he would never again lie to her no matter how much easier it would be or how much it might spare her (who are we kidding, his) feelings. He swallowed. "So I did."

Now Evey looked at him hard, almost glaring, trying to see behind the mask. "Did you mean it, or was that just the memory you wanted me to have?"

_A skillfully asked 'or' question. When did you become such a good interrogator_, he wondered. Sending a small prayer heavenward to a God who had never listened before, V threw caution to the wind and answered her honestly. "I meant what I said."

Evey nodded as if she'd already known and for him to admit it aloud was not a big deal. "Do you know why I came back, V?"

She was going to let him squirm. He deserved it, but the agony was terrible. _Either affirm me or deny me, but please don't toy with me. Please don't deny me_. V remembered what she had told him the night they danced and lobbed it back at her hoping against hope there was more to it than, "Because you said you would."

Evey rolled her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips. "Come on, V. Is it such a stretch of the imagination to think I came back for you? Maybe I missed you? Maybe being away from you and angry at you made me realize that?"

V's head cocked to the right as he walked back through Evey's words. They were nonsensical to him. "So you missed me in spite of hating me?"

Her posture changed again. No longer mother, exasperated now. Evey brushed her hand forward over her face stopping to rub her temples. "No, you impossible man. I hate what you _did_. I stayed away because I couldn't forgive you and I wanted to punish you. I get why you did it, I think, but I'm still cross with you. And you know what? For all that, not being here was a miserable, boring, lonely existence. I punished me as much as I punished you. I don't know how you did it, but somehow, V, you because…my sun."

V knew what she meant and he knew this moment was not one to be toyed with, but it was just too easy and he couldn't resist. "I must be misunderstanding you, Evey."

"S-U-N, the big round thing that glows in the sky." Evey looked like she was ready to walk out on him and V regretted being so flippant. Instead she took a breath and exhaled and when her eyes opened again they were calmer. "Those few months here with you I learned more than I ever did in my entire life. You opened my eyes, but when I left I couldn't see anymore. It was like living in a shadow world. I felt like I was groping around in the dark without you."

"Evey…" He wanted to tell her how dark and lifeless the Shadow Gallery had been without her. How he had missed her curiosity and energy. How all the things which used to please him had become empty vessels that would only hold his regrets.

But.

Evey was so young, so fresh, so full of life, so able to have more, and do more than he could offer her. She was already doing as he had hoped. Could he ask for yet another sacrifice from her? Could he claim to love her while shackling her to his monstrous carcass? Could he expect her to stay? Every moment Evey spent in his home she got closer to seeing the man behind the mask and V didn't like him much. Oh, there was plenty he appreciated even admired about himself and those things were what he showed her, but there were also dark, ugly, rotting parts he hoped she never even glimpsed. The moment he was unmasked, either figuratively or literally, Evey would run and he would have no one to blame but himself.

_If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more_, he silently lamented. (5) Rather than drawing Evey to himself and crushing her under the weight of the love he felt, V evaded her by playing the injured card. "I'm so tired."

Evey took a couple of steps deeper into the room, leaned over him and kissed the forehead of the mask. "Then sleep, but don't think I don't know what you're doing."

* * *

(4) George Eliot - Silas Marner

(5) Jane Austin - Emma


	6. Chapter 6

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS INFORMATION ABOUT THE NATURE OF BURNS. IF YOU DONT WANT TO THINK ABOUT THEM, THIS WOULD BE A GOOD CHAPTER TO AVOID.

**Chapter 6**

Evey Hammond had a very busy mind. She was working with Detectives Finch and Stone and a growing number of other people in an effort to finish the overthrow of Norsefire. All were people with talents needed in the current fight and all appeared as committed as she was. The group, however, was splitting into two factions. Less than half wanted a nonviolent solution, the others advocated whatever was necessary to destroy their enemies. It did not help to know V himself was firmly lodged in the second camp, even if he never spoke about it.

As the mouth piece of the group and the leader of nonviolence faction the more days that passed without results the harder her job became.

Evey wanted the remaining Norsefire brass to be tried in a court of law, convicted by juries of their peers and imprisoned for the rest of their natural lives. She would use those enemies as examples, just as Norsefire had done. The only difference was she would use them to prove to the people justice had returned to England. She would show them this by treating even the worst among them fairly. Where Norsefire had been secrets, lies and violence, the new democratic government would be free, transparent and fair.

Norsefire's grasp on the reins of government might have been weakened, their ability to control the media slipping each day, but their security remained impeccable. Evey's faction had not yet been able to formulate a decent plan to capture the three men needed to bring the entire house of cards down.

Those advocating a quicker solution were gaining strength. If Evey could not deliver a change in regime soon, her dreams of equal protection under the law would die and the new government would be no better than the one it replaced.

It was a huge responsibility and one Evey would have gladly handed over to someone else if she felt she could.

Overwhelming as her political concerns were, she had the additional (and to her more important) problem of an injured genius who was stewing in his own juices far too much.

For over a week she had been racing topside for meetings while at the same time taking care of V…as much as he would let her anyway. He was determined to thwart her every effort to help him. His only concession had been leaving her in charge of meals which he politely refused to eat with her.

V would always plead a lack of hunger, absorption in the book he was reading, being too tired at the moment, or feeling a little nauseous to avoid it. Before when V had been healthy, he had always insisted he ate as he cooked and by the time he had her meal ready he was too full to eat more.

Great intellect was not needed to figure out V would do almost anything to keep her from peaking behind the mask. Evey did not know why it mattered so much to him, but since it did, she didn't press the issue further than asking him to join her every time she fed him.

During the time Evey had been away she had been obsessed with V. She knew so little about him, but what little she information she had, she researched. Mostly that was torture and burns.

Evey was intimately familiar with torture even though she knew what V had done to her only scratched the surface of the cesspool of human depravity. Try though she might, she couldn't bring herself to think of things worse than what she herself had endured.

Instead Evey researched burns. She looked into the different types, the different levels of severity and what each meant to the victim. She took particular interest in the healing process.

Not a single thing about being burned was pleasant...not that injury ever is...but burns were awful. The best she could say for the worst burns, 3rd degree, was the loss of nerve endings meant there was no pain...ever. No future sensation at all. That seemed like a cruel blessing, but even worse was the fact 3rd degree burns were always accompanied by 2nd degree burns. 2nd degree burns were horrendously painful...and then there was the scarring. Evey could think of no more agonizing an injury than burns.

She had seen V's hands only once. From her research she knew those were 3rd degree burns and he was very lucky to still have his fingers. Most people whose hands burned lost several digits in the process. More than that, V was lucky to still have the dexterity he had. Scar tissue is thick and inelastic rendering limbs encased in it inflexible and weak. V was anything but weak or inflexible. He was also very sensitive to touch, which was something Evey planned to make use of in the near future.

It was natural to wonder how much more of him was burned in the fire. V had never said. Judging from the mask, his face had been injured. Thus Evey had paid specific attention to facial burns trying to figure out what the worst possible case could be under the smiling face of Guy Fawkes. She had to know if she could live with it.

No matter how Evey thought about it, it was shallow. What was inside was the important thing. The shell changes on everyone. There would come a day when she was no longer beautiful, too. But still. If Evey was honest with herself, she knew how important appearances could be.

Not wanting to be shallow where V was concerned, Evey found as many pictures of people who had been burned as she could and she studied them, looking for the beauty that had to be there. At first all she could do was pity the poor souls whose faces had melted like wax candles and left them with features barely identifiable. Many had lost ears, lost noses, lips, even eyes. It was horrible and Evey had let pity overwhelm her.

As she continued, however, Evey started to see other things. She trained her eye to see past what was missing or deformed and find what was beautiful and precious. It started with the eyes. There was something different in the eyes.

These were people who had seen things most would be lucky enough not to and those experiences reflected in their eyes. The strength and determination, the defiance staring back at Evey from the photographs was strikingly beautiful and made all the more so because so often they shown from heavily damaged faces.

Eventually Evey could even see the difference between the people who were recently burned and those who had adjusted to their new skin. The first group was angry, they were still thinking it could get better and were thus embarrassed. The latter group though, they were tired of being stared at, sick of being pitied and ready to just get on with it if everyone else would leave them alone long enough to do it.

The conclusion of Evey's research was that even though twenty years had passed V was somewhere in limbo between the two groups. She blamed his isolation for that. She also decided even if his face was completely destroyed, even if his entire body was covered in scars, it didn't matter. The man behind the façade of Guy Fawkes, beneath the mask of scars, under the camouflage of chivalry, he was beautiful and Evey loved him.

Evey had known she loved him long before November 4th when she was finally ready to admit it to him. She just tried to fight it off which was a lot like running as fast as she could to avoid getting wet in a rain storm.

The trouble was Evey had convinced herself he did not reciprocate those feelings. The result was she couldn't work up the courage to share what she felt. After all, could a man in love torture the object of his affections? Other than that terrible month, he had been Miss Manners' star pupil and thus aloof and untouchable. There was always a distance between them. Nothing V had done indicated to her he felt anything beyond a friendly student/teacher type of level, but then on the train tracks, bleeding to death, he told her he was in love with her. What was that?

For two horrible hours V was dead and Evey thought of all the things she wished she'd said to him, the things she wished she'd showed him. She bargained with God, promising if he gave V back to her she would make him know love. She would show him what it was and he could have it, that he _already_ had it. Evey would do it the same way he taught her fear was useless. Then they would be even.

Now Evey had the chance. She was not going to waste it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**I tend to build pretty slowly, I know. But at this point we are shifting gears. If anyone thinks that this is jarring, it is intended to be. **

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**Chapter 7 **

As with most things in her life, somewhere, somehow, something in Evey's master plan had gone wrong.

It had started small, as most truly scary things tend to do.

V grew quieter and more introspective. He was restless and irritable. At first she brushed it off as a normal reaction for a very active man who was suddenly stuck in bed with nothing to do.

Then he stopped reading and she assumed he was depressed. When she layered the completion of what he had believed to be his life's work on top of being bedridden, some sort of emotional fallout was only to be expected.

To try to combat his deepening sorrow, Evey brought him his art supplies. She had seen him painting before and knew he enjoyed the creative process. He was also very good at it. Not surprising since she had yet to identify something he wasn't good at.

Evey thought he would continue to do portraits like he had in the past, beautiful, expressive glimpses into the souls of people he saw during his trips topside, but he didn't. Instead his drawings were abstract, mind bending lines and shapes and shadows flowing around each other, a pattern almost emerging but not quite...and they were dark. Not the colors, those were bright, lively, almost manic. The mood was dark, the lines too heavy and oppressive, the shadows too deep and menacing. The light areas were too bright to see clearly. They were beautiful, but foreboding.

Contributing to Evey's worry was their alarming rate of production and the growing repetitive nature of them. She could step away for a few hours and return to a snowstorm of paper all covered with the same drawing. The only difference between them was that they grew darker, ever darker and the man behind the mask grew more and more distant with every stroke.

V stopped talking. He abandoned chivalry, failing to even acknowledge her when she entered the room and he left every plate she brought him untouched.

Finally Evey was compelled to take away the paint, pensils and paper. She couldn't watch what was happening to V and hoped if she could get his head back in books perhaps he would come back out of the inner turmoil he was ensconced in.

Her plan met with marginal success. V did not protest the loss of his art supplies and Evey got him to focus his energy elsewhere but it was not an improvement.

He dragged his protesting legs to the piano and grew roots at the bench. V didn't play the classical pieces he usually enjoyed. Instead he banged out the same notes over and over and over. Ugly, nonsensical notes that howled in pain and screamed their rage throughout the Shadow Gallery.

Evey felt powerless in the face of his pain and her worry was quickly being replaced by fear.

The world above continued on even as the Shadow Gallery was swallowed in darkness.

Evey had no choice but divide her time between the formation of new government and the self destruction of the man she loved. Every session topside with its ideas, arguments, agreements and to-do lists was torture for her. She could not drag her mind away from the man far below going mad while beating the life out of a baby grand.

Coming home from the latest meeting with it's unresolved but ever narrowing set of options, Evey walked into silence.

Hopeful V was finally coming around she went to look for him, but he had not abandoned his post. He sat at the piano, head in his hands rocking. Not a good sign. Circled around him was a vast sea of sheet music. As she moved closer making sure to be very loud in her approach so she wouldn't startle him, Evey noticed that once again there was a near pattern in the madness of paper.

What did it mean?

V was very neat and organized but he wasn't obsessive. He could live with her moving things and having a dodgy record where picking up after her self was concerned. He might chide her for making a mess, but he didn't really care beyond the teasing.

Evey knew he had a love of symmetry. He appreciated the patterns that emerged if he was still before a painting or reflecting on a book. He would tell her about them, weaving together seamless mosaics she could only see through his eyes.

Perhaps it was a pattern he was struggling with. Maybe he was seeing something he could not make sense of and was obsessing on it. She had to find some way to either help him see it or help him forget it. It was a task much more easily stated than accomplished.

"V?"

When he heard his name, the mask shot up and without turning to her he leapt to his feet and bolted down a dark hallway.

Evey gave chase and rounding a bend in the corridor, she saw the heel of his boot fly into a room as something gold breezed by her cheek and hit the wall with a tinkling sound.

She slammed into the door only to find it barred against her. She pounded on it for a while, shouting his name but there was no response.

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**I apologize for the cliff hanger (insert evil snicker here) but...these things happen. Please R&R.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**

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Chapter 8

The thing V had thrown at Evey was a brass key. She turned it over and over and over her hands fingering it so much it had begun to tarnish and turn her fingers black as she waited.

At first there was silence from behind the locked door.

Then there was crashing, banging, violence lasting for what felt like years that made Evey painfully aware of V's half healed injuries.

For many reasons the key turning in Evey's hands preyed on her mind. It was a tool, a responsibility and a symbol. V had given her his confinement and he had given her the means to end it. He had given her his freedom.

If she let him out and V remained mad, Evey had no hope of restraining him. She didn't want to have to restrain him. On the flipside, she was not comfortable leaving him alone behind a locked door. He was far from healthy and she knew if he kept at it he could really hurt himself.

After eons of time passed during which Evey got no closer to a solution, V finally quieted. Relief washed over her like cool water on a hot day. Evey called to him, trying to reach him but he did not respond.

Just as Evey began fumbling with the key because she couldn't stand the silence and the loss it implied she heard scratching. It reminded her of the sound of chalk on concrete from when she was young and hopscotch was a fun game. She put the key on the ground in front of her and stared at the door.

Later, much later, she heard V lean against the inside of the door and she moved to lean on it too, pushing her weight against it allowing the pressure to silently inform him of her presence. She would not leave him and he needed to know it.

V fled the door when it pushed against him and she could feel the rage boiling up again, knew the moment it would overwhelm him and cried hard when the crashing and banging resumed.

She couldn't listen anymore and retreated to the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, it took her a while to gather herself.

It was inevitable after all V had suffered, all he had planned and accomplished that the aftermath would be harsh. How could she have thought it would be as simple as a depression?

Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Perhaps she had a bloated sense of V's invincibility. The idea might be bulletproof, but the man was not. Evey still struggled to separate the two.

It was difficult to assess her options for the present problem. She probably knew V better than anyone, but the vastness of her ignorance laughed at her as it now paraded in front of her.

Evey had no answers to the questions plaguing her. How much pain could a man endure and be sane, assuming a very broad definition of the term? How long was this going to last? What was he doing in there anyway? Would he bounce back from this? If he did, would it happen again? Could she live with this?

The old Evey would have run, fear overwhelming hope.

But this version, the one V created, wasn't afraid. Not for herself. There was no fear, there was hope. Hope that somehow she could figure out the living riddle she'd fallen in love with and help him.

V was so secretive. She knew he had been imprisoned once and that he had been caught in a fire. Beyond that, he remained a firmly closed book. She wasn't sure where he had found his vision of a new future and she didn't know all it had taken to orchestrate his vendetta, but the more she thought about it, the more logical what he was currently going through seemed.

V had traded pain for purpose. Once finished, he had nothing but pain to fall back upon. Evey could easily assume that, like her, he had lost his family to the reclaimation. Someone he trusted must have betrayed him. He would not speak of the past but Evey knew it was filled with bad memories and loss.

That could change. It had to change. She would change it. She would be family, friend, lover and maker of joyful memories.

Fortified by her resolve and loaded with things to make her wait easier, Evey returned to her vigil by the door. She had the blanket from V's bed, the one that smelled like him, and a couple of pillows she made a nest out of in front of the door. She also had a bottle of water and some crackers. Most importantly, she had a book. It was the one V had requested back on the 5th. _Witches Abroad_. It was such an odd choice but it was what he had wanted to hear when he was in pain. There was no doubt he was in pain now.

If the book soothed him to sleep that night, perhaps it would help here, too. Evey read aloud, her voice resonating off the walls and echoing down the hall.

Shortly after she started V, who had been back at the scratching, quieted and returned to the door leaning against it pushing her into a more upright position.

Evey pushed back to acknowledge him but didn't stop reading. He did not dart away.

She made it almost to the end before Evey finally grasped what V had seen in it. The first time she read the book she had glossed over it as a bit of fluff, which it still was, but it also had a deeper meaning. It was about and a puppet government trying to force feed stories to its population, making the people live in a fairytale because that's what the godmother/government thought would make their lives perfect.

"Is this book on the black list?" Evey asked, not expecting an answer.

"Yes, it is." V's voice sounded scratchy but normal.

Evey sighed in relief.

In her attempt to face the options if he didn't pull himself back together she had emembered a movie V showed her called '_Old Yeller'_ about a faithful and brave dog who fought a wolf for his family. The wolf was rabid and Yeller was bitten. The boy who loved him, the one Yeller gave his life for, had to watch him go mad and in the end, to show him mercy, had to shoot him. Even though the film ended with a montage of Old Yeller's puppies, she hated it and had been angry at V for showing it to her.

He had shrugged and said, "The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest, It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes . . ." (6)

The thoughts his comment had stirred had been terrible and Evey had not been pleased by their unwanted return. Hearing V's voice now made her hopeful she didn't have to think about mercy anymore, but still she worried. She had to be sure he was no longer in pieces, that _her_ best friend was not rabid.

She asked, "Because it's seditious?"

"Because it reminds us free will is more important than perfect, storybook endings." He replied, sounding very much like the college professor Evey secretly suspected he had been once.

"Are you okay now?" It had to be asked.

V sighed and she could feel the weight pushing against her through the door increase. "Yes."

"Do you want to come back out now?" Evey wasn't sure she was ready, but he had spent enough of his life behind locked doors.

V seemed to understand. "Would you finish the story for me first?"

She did as he asked, sending Granny Weatherwax, Magrat and Nanny Ogg back home before readdressing the question of liberating V from his self imposed prison.

He sounded ashamed. "Evey, if you are ready to open the door I am ready to pass through it."

She climbed to her feet and unlocked the door.

V tried the lock but did not open the door. "Would you be kind enough to make some tea for me?"

"Sure." She replied, understanding that really wasn't what he was asking for, but thankful to escape the awkwardness of the moment.

It was one thing to convince herself she could be V's rock. It was another to actually attempt it. How she handled what came next could be the defining moment between them. The thought terrified her.

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(6) Shakespeare – Merchant of Venice

**

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****It has been mentioned that it is hard to believe V would fall so far apart. I agree it does seem a little OOC from the outset, but please allow me to justify my reasoning.**

**It has been my experience the quietest, politest, most self contained people I've known are the ones who snap the hardest. Their ropes may be very long, but when they reach the ends of them, the outbursts are shocking. On the surface they don't seem capable of it, but so much anger, so much pain has been held in, forced down and left unspoken that when they finally lose it, all they have suppressed explodes out of them. **

**I think V is one of those people. I also think he would be self aware enough to try and cope with that aspect of himself. He would either deal with it or find a way to use it. I don't think V is crazy. I just think life has dealt him more blows than he can internalize and occasionally he has to release the pressure.**

**I also want to note that this long winded explanation isn't meant to assault those who questioned my logic. Instead it is a great big THANK YOU! I welcome constructive feedback. It can only make me a better writer. Thanks very much for reading and for your comments! It makes writing much more fun. :o)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**Chapter 9**

V let the hot water pour over his shoulders, pounding away the aches and clearing the last of the cobwebs from his mind. He watched as his blood turned the water red and circled the drain before passing into oblivion.

If he could have dribbled down with it into the refuge of the sewers, he would have gladly done so.

The thing he feared had happened. His darkness had been set loose and it had preyed upon Evey's innocence. This was why he should have made her leave. This was why she would leave now.

He stepped out of the shower and began to dry off. How was he to face her? What could he possibly say? _. . . My intellect is a little way upon the wrong side of that narrow boundary-line between sanity and insanity. (_7)

V had never pretended he was not as damaged on the inside as he was on the outside. He knew very well he was not the definition of mental stability. Ideas on close examination rarely are. He had a few bats in the belfry most of the time and was certifiably insane on occasion. That he knew it negated nothing.

He began to address the wound at his flank that had reopened. At first V had worried that the bullet might have nicked an intestine but infection never set in for which he was grateful. That it reopened wasn't good nor was the fact it was doing a good deal of bleeding.

A long time ago when his vendetta was as fragile as his body, when he was easily sidetracked by hatred and pain, there had many similar episodes. So many he had built a room to take the brunt of his rage and hold the mountainous copies of that damn pattern he had yet to dissect enough to expel.

Having bound the wound at his side V went to work on his left shoulder and checked the other unopened wounds on his arms.

It had been at least a decade since the last episode. Why now? Why after ten years would the pattern suddenly reappear? Why would it bring back his rage with so much force? Why now? Why with Evey only a wooden door away from the heart of his darkness?

Why was such a stupidly easy question to answer. _. . . nothing contributes so much to tranquillize the mind as a steady purpose . .(_8) His task was done, but V remained behind. The reason? Like all else in the last year, it was Evey. Not her fault, no. Rather, it was simply her presence that upset the delicate balance he had established between reason and madness.

Shoulder tended to V moved on to the other side and the reopened wound in his thigh.

_What's done is done_, he scolded himself sternly, _you will simply have to find a way to explain and the courage to face the consequences. You promised her honesty and you will deliver it._

But it was easier to face bullets and he turned his attention to examining his other wounds in the mirror. From his collar bones to his groin he was black and blue. There was not an inch that had not felt the sting of a bullet even if the breast plate had taken the brunt of the impact. V never thought he would be grateful for good marksmanship and the concept of 'center mass'.

It was remarkably lucky the few slugs that made it into his flesh had missed large blood vessels and organs. Clearly God wanted to extract another pound of flesh from him. _And she called _me_ a heartless monster,_ his thoughts snarled.

As V slowly dressed he turned over in his mind the pain he was about to face.

He tied the mask back into place and realized _he_ would not face her wrath. It was his heart that would break, yes, but it was Guy Fawkes, just as inscrutable and mysterious as ever, who would nod calmly as she walked out of his home and his life forever.

From the day V met Evey he had known it would come to this. She could not stay. He wished he had been strong enough to leave her behind at BTN. Why had he subjected himself to this? _Because I love her and have from the moment I saw her._

Why, when they took nearly everything else, couldn't they have taken his heart as well? Why leave him with the one organ that could continue to torture him?

Cruel irony, that.

_Oh God, Evey, how do I face you?_

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(7) Mary Elizabeth Braddon – Lady Audrey's Secret

(8) Mary Shelly – Frankenstein

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**My apologies for being so late to post this. I had exams all this week which took up all of my time. I'll get another chapter up later this weekend. I'm starting a Maymester class (Statistics - yuck) on Monday so I dont know how much time I will have over the next three weeks. That will be followed by two more semesters of summer school (Chemistry - eek!) before Fall and 19 credit hours. **

**But what do you care of my educational woes? Probably very little, but I'm telling you anyway to let you know that I am working uber hard this weekend to finally finish writing this tale so all that remains is the editing and minor tweeking. Hopefully this will allow me to post fairly regularly until it's finished without cutting hugely into study time. And if summer school proves easier than anticipated, I'll be able to start playing with some of the other ideas bouncing aroung in this melon I call a head.**

**Cheers, Free**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ça Va Sans Dire **

French, means: "it goes without saying"

Summary: V survives the shooting and the story continues.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Nothing from V for Vendetta is mine. This is just for fun.

**Chapter 10**

Evey had initially busied herself with tea she knew V would never drink, but when the futility of the task finally overwhelmed the escape of doing it she went to the roof and checked her messages.

Good news. Very good news. It meant a lot of work for her in the coming months but it was almost over. So close. Finally something in her world was going right.

Pumped up and brimming with confidence, Evey returned to the Shadow Gallery. V had not left his room yet. She tried to be patient and wait in the kitchen, but eventually her curiosity got the better of her. There was more than a little trepidation that accompanied her journey down the hallway back to the room V had locked himself in.

Inside it was dark, but not so much that she could not see. There was padding on the walls and floor and a punching bag that had seen better days hanging by only one of three chains. The floor had dull spots scent told her were blood and it was littered with carefully placed stacks of paper. Some of it was shredded into little pieces and made into mountains. Some of it was folded into shapes like origami. Some was drawn on, the same sketch she had seen V produce over and over. Still more gruesome, some of the pages had been smudged with blood.

"Oh God, V," Evey muttered, the high of success replaced by sorrow. It took effort to suppress the urge to check on him, take care of his wounds, and ensure his physical wellbeing, but she knew he would never allow it. V would probably die before he let her help and the thought brought new tears to her eyes.

Instead Evey pushed the door open wider to let in more light and carefully stepped deeper into the room trying to reach the center. Perhaps from there she could see the forest for the trees. It didn't help, the pattern made no more sense there than it had at the periphery. "What can I do?"

Evey continued to look around, noting the huge amounts of dust covering the untouched surfaces. There were cobwebs in the corners. It had been a long time since the room was last used.

Perhaps what she had just witnessed was a rare thing, but if it were, why would V have a room set up for the express purpose? Still it looked long unused.

"Evey, I wish you would come away from there."

She had not heard him coming, not that this was unusual. Evey's cheeks burned red as if she were the one caught doing something strange and not the other way round. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be here, I just…I just, I had to see for myself I guess."

It took effort to look at him. Her gaze started at his feet and slowly ascended. He looked exactly as he always did, tall, straight, standing quietly at ease. When she finally made it to the mask, it was not looking at her but past her and down. V's voice was hesitant, guilty. "I understand."

In contrast, Evey's confidence was rising. His façade of omniscience had cracked. She was getting her first real look a V. He was man like any other who bled, who suffered, who tried, but didn't always succeed. He was also loony as a mad hatter. Or maybe, to stay sane most of the time, V had to be insane some of the time.

Evey felt closer to him even as she knew he would try to put more distance between them. She wasn't having it. "You might, but I don't. What happened, V? One minute things were fine and then, then they were really, really weird."

His head fell and Evey had the distinct impression that he wanted to sink into the floor. "I don't know how to explain, Evey. I am a verbose man whose voice shame has absconded with."

V was the most shameless person she knew. He had always done what he thought was right even when it hurt. The myriad of sins he had committed in the name of his vendetta had not been worth even an unapologetic shrug. How could _this_ make V ashamed? "I don't get that either. What are you ashamed of?"

He gestured to the room around them, "With memory set smarting like a reopened wound, a man's past is not simply a dead history, an outworn preparation of the present: it is not a repented error shaken loose from the life: it is a still quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame." (9)

"That is _not_ a loss for words." Evey snapped hating how he had a wealth of appropriate prose to draw from when he couldn't conjure words of his own.

"I wish you hadn't seen this." V said as he held out a hand to her.

She took it and squeezed in hopes the gesture reassured. He pulled her gently from the room and dropped her hand as if he didn't have the right to touch her.

"Because you think I'm judging you for it?" Evey asked.

V took a step back from her and his head dropped even farther.

"Because you would be a fool not to." He replied in a near whisper.

It was too much. She pushed him and he fell back against the wall as if all the fight in him had died. Anger welled inside Evey and she growled, "Good God! You've seen every bloody inch of me! You humiliated me, tortured me and…glutton for punishment that I am, I. Came. Back. You think this," she pointed back into the room, "is worse that _that_?"

The mask would not look at her. V instead looked at her hands still splayed on his chest.

"Misfortunes one can endure--they come from outside, they are accidents. But to suffer for one's own faults--ah!--there is the sting of life." (10) He sighed. "What I did to you, Evey, is my greatest regret."

Evey's anger melted as fast as it had developed. She brought one of her hands up to the cheek of his mask. He startled at the touch, but did not slap her hand away as she expected. He faced her and she stared straight up into the eye holes that let him see out, but refused to let her see in.

"V, would you like to know what I think?"

Clearly he did not. V' head fell again and her limited view behind the mask was canceled. He nodded as her hands slipped away.

Evey tried to be direct. "I think if you need this room, that's okay. I you might want to fix the punching bag and clean up a little, but if you have to do this from time to time, I'll get used to it."

V's face rose slowly as if the mask's weight was more than he could easily lift. Tilted to the side, it was up to her to decide if his body language spoke of disbelief or surprise.

"Thought I was leaving?"

"A sensible person would. Are you not a sensible person?" V's voice had dropped to a whisper glutted with emotion.

"_You_ made me fearless, now you get to live with the consequences." Evey shrugged and put her hands back on his chest, feeling the muscles tense and the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingers. It was the only expression of fear he would give her.

V gave the slightest shake of his head. "Evey, this is no place…"

"If you tell me were my place is one more time, I will be forced to…" She ran though a series of possibilities like inflicting violence, filleting him with words, tickling him to death (which might not be a bad idea, just inappropriate for the moment) and came up with not a single thing she could threaten him with other than leaving which was counter productive in the extreme. "Point is, unless you want to put me out, you're stuck with me."

His head cocked again and she knew V was thinking hard about calling her bluff and it hurt him to do it.

The time had come to finally pull out the big guns. "V, I…what I'm trying to say is…"

Evey realized her palms were sweating and at almost the same time realized it didn't matter. There were several layers of material between her hand and his skin. He would never know.

She had come close before, telling V how she felt, but leaving out the one life altering sentence that would solidify the future into a new form. She exhaled and closed her eyes. When she opened them Evey felt a little more in control. "I love you. You are a very, _very_ odd man and I admit sometimes you scare me, but no matter how hard I've tried not to, I love you."

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(9) George Eliot – Middlemarch

(10) Oscar Wilde - Lady Windermere's Fan

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**Once again, I come before you dear readers to plead my case. First, THANK YOU for giving me an excuse to explain myself. I LOVE that you give me reason to pause and reflect on what it is that I am doing.**

**Anyway, there are some among you who feel I need to get on with it which I take to mean I should get to the post-angst sex in the relative near future (yes, that is coming). To those of you who feel this way (just so we are fair, the lone anon post to reviews is not the only one who has expressed a desire to get on) all I can say is I too would like this beast to hurry up, climax and end. I have other ideas I would like to pay attention to not to mention a boat load of school to endure.**

**However, (did you feel the 'but' coming?) V is a very, very difficult person to rush. He does things in his time as he sees fit. Muse Evey and I have made every effort to hurry him, but he persists in believing Evey can do better, he cannot truly love her unless he is willing to trust her and she cannot truly love him unless all is revealed. It is getting to the revelation that is difficult.**

**I apologize for the delays, for the repetition of issues already covered, etc. It is my feeling something as life altering as revealing your deepest, darkest secrets to someone you cannot stand to lose and fear your will, is not something that can be rushed or forced. It will take time, patience from Evey and monumental courage from V. To stay true to the muses, I must follow their lead.**

**Again, THANK YOU very much for the constructive feedback and for reading my tangential response. I want you to know how much I appreciate the feedback and how much thought I put into what you have to say. Keep it coming! -Free**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**HUGE THANK YOU to Belmont-Bellamy for editing and grammarical guidance!**

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Chapter 11

Whatever Evey was expecting V to do in response to her admission of love, sliding down the wall and landing in a heap was not among them.

"V?" She bent down beside him and it was then she noticed the sheen on the bottom of his waistcoat. Before she touched it Evey knew it was blood. "Oh God. Why does _everything _have to be so damned dramatic with you?"

She checked his pulse. It was still fast, but not as strong as she remembered. His breathing was also faster and more shallow than normal. What Evey had assumed to be fear was in fact blood loss. Someday she would learn V was not made of iron, but flesh and blood like everyone else.

Evey grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "V… V, wake up."

"Hmm?"

"Can you get to your feet? I need to get you back to bed." She tried to lift him, but it was no use. He was too heavy.

When she said his name again, V didn't respond.

"Damn," cursed Evey, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. No. Later. She could fall apart later.

Part of her wondered if this was really what life with V would be like post November 5th. It had not been like this in the past. He'd been a little off his rocker, but not crazy, not self destructive, and never confused or at least never for long. She missed the confident, self- contained man she'd fallen in love with. Would he come back or was this how it would be from now on?

Evey shook her head trying to clear it. First things first. She couldn't let him bleed to death in a hallway while she debated the future.

Evey took a second to consider the options. What she needed to do was obvious. She must bind his wounds and stop the bleeding; in addition, she needed to return him to his bed. As she wasn't sure how to get V to his bed, she opted to deal with the wounds first.

At least she knew where the supplies were this time. Rushing to V's bedroom, Evey gathered everything she thought she would need.

Once back by V's side and satisfied he was not dead, she took a second to work up the courage required to violate his fervently guarded privacy.

She undid fourteen buttons on his waistcoat before impatience got the better of her and she ripped off the rest exposing the dark grey poet shirt he sometimes wore. The lower right side was covered in blood. Carefully, she untucked his shirt and pulled it up, exposing a swath of bandaging turned red.

Taking a deep breath Evey picked up the scissors and cut the bandaging away from the wound.

_Oh God, V._ His skin looked a little like pulled taffy, shiny and smooth, with a web of heavier scar tissue banded over paper thin skin making the texture strange under her fingers. It was terrible, but not nearly as bad as she had herself prepared for. Were his skin not bruised in alternating shades of dark purple and greenish yellow, it wouldn't be shocking to her at all.

The blood oozing from a hole far to the right and just above his hipbone was much more worrisome. In the movies people were shot in the side all the time. Next to the shoulder it was the most popular place for non-lethal injuries. If she could believe Hollywood, V would be fine.

Carefully, Evey pushed V onto his side trying to see if there was a bleeding exit wound. There wasn't, but the burns continued around, embracing his trunk in their spindly netting. Here the scars were thicker, but unbruised.

Vowing in the very near future she would sign up for a first aid class, Evey tried to duplicate the bandaging she had just stripped away. She packed the wound and bound it tight with more gauze.

Satisfied, she quickly pushed his shirt higher and checked over V's chest looking for other wounds. She found one on his right shoulder and four more on his arms, but none were bleeding.

For a long moment Evey watched the bandage at his waist, waiting for red to appear. When none did she pulled his shirt back down and restored his privacy. The time had come to move on to her second problem. How was she going to get V to his bed?

As she sat beside him mulling over the problem Evey noticed a small pool of red spreading from under his left leg.

Without thinking she began to undo his trousers and tried to pull them down. Meeting with no success, she cut them off, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind telling her she was damning herself forever in V's eyes. She tried to be discreet, to expose only what she had to, but the wound was high on his thigh with the bandaging half covered by a set of very loud orange and green boxers.

_He is going to hate me forever for this_, she thought as she cut those away as well exposing the wound and the surrounding area to her view. The wound was a through and through and only the hole to the back of his thigh was bleeding. As she packed and dressed the injury Evey wondered at the ugly underwear. How could a man with such elegant taste wear things as hideous as his kitchen apron and these boxers? It was such a marked contrast to his somber façade. The ridiculousness of them was likely the sole source of their charm because they had no other redeeming value as far as she could tell. _V, you never cease to surprise do you, you silly man,_ she thought smiling to herself. _Someday I will tease you mercilessly for these._

In a perfect world her assessment of him would have stopped with his underwear, but in the process of bandaging she had cared only for stopping the bleeding and not a wink for his privacy. She could justify that kind of clinical detachment, but when her eyes gravitated to areas not within the purview of her task, she was overwhelmed with remorse. It did not help her guilt had been accompanied by glee.

V might have been trapped in an inferno and it might have sought his ruin, but it had failed to take his manhood. Here the scaring was the kind her studies had taught her to associate with 2nd degree burns. Horrifically painful, this type of burn tended to heal without any serious damage to the skin or underlying structures.

Feeling acutely ashamed of herself for the next several thoughts traversing her imagination, Evey covered him over as best she could and tried to return her thoughts to the more immediate to-do list of tending to a wounded warrior.

"Right then, back to bed with you," she said aloud aware he was not listening. The sound of her own voice helped steady her emotions and brought her focus back to the task at hand.

Intent on dragging him back to his room, her first attempt failed. When she tried to use his arms to pull him he hissed in a breath and cringed. For a moment Evey feared he had regained consciousness, but when she released the pressure on his shoulders he quieted.

"Oh bollocks, that won't work then will it? How the bloody hell do I get you from here to there then, V? Have any suggestions, my friend?" She asked needing something to break the otherwise crushing silence of her self-recrimination.

It was as if he occupied space in her mind because as she asked him for help an idea formed. Inspiration came from the movies. A western she had watched with V included a scene were American Indians dragged away their wounded from a field of battle on buffalo skins. There wasn't an animal skin to be found in the Shadow Gallery, but there was a blanket from her earlier vigil still lying beside them in the hallway.

It took a bit of doing to get him onto the blanket, but she managed to pull him all the way to his room without much trouble. Getting V into his bed was more of a challenge, but she managed it.

Once she had him tucked in Evey had no other to-do's to distract her mind from the painfully obvious fact that she had invaded V's privacy. There was nothing she could do to hide it from him. She was forced to face the fact no matter what she did, V would know she had seen far more of his body than he would think proper. 'Upset' was a likely understatement for how angry he would be.

V had never been seriously angry at her before. There were plenty of times she had irritated, annoyed, and exasperated him in the past. Tiffs with V were uncomfortable but they rarely lasted long and he was very good about making sure they talked out whatever bothered him. In that respect, V had always been easy to argue with.

It seemed light years separated them from those days. Today's V was not stable. To have ever thought he was seemed stupid to Evey in retrospect. If she was honest about it, when he wasn't acting a complete lunatic, he was still very, very odd.

V was also a killer. He had drawn a distinction for her once between killing and murder based on intention and method, but to her that line was merely semantic. Death was death and who ever dealt it could call it whatever he wanted, but a life was still taken. V had killed many and did not seem to have an emotional link to those deaths at all. He had also tortured the woman he claimed to love. Obviously violence was an acceptable method for handling problems in his view. If he could torture her for being afraid, could he hurt her for seeing the man behind the idea?

Evey feared he could.

Was seeing him in the flesh enough? If it was, then she should just pull off the mask, take a look, and die with her curiosity satisfied. Even as the uncharitable thought passed through her mind Evey knew it was wrong.

V would be upset, true, but it was far more likely it would take the form of humiliation. He had been so embarrassed the one time she had seen his hands. He had quickly hidden them, made a bad joke at his own expense and then dropped the subject. She remembered it clearly. It was the first time she had gotten a glimpse of the man masquerading as a symbol.

It was more likely V would hate himself and not her. He would be mortified in the extreme and would try to hide from her. They would probably have to take yet another turn around the issue of her staying in the Shadow Gallery. Though it was getting very old Evey knew he would try to push her away again.

Should she let him? Maybe if he had time alone to sort out how he felt about being exposed they wouldn't have to go through the ordeal of their 'I'm-not-leaving/why-would-you-stay' argument.

It might have been the easier way for her, but she was sure if V woke, exposed and alone he would jump to the wrong conclusion.

Feeling uncomfortable and a little scared, Evey climbed onto the bed beside him. She thought about getting in with him and she thought about stripping so that the playing field would be level when he woke.

During his convalescing V had never invited her under the covers with him. Instead he let her curl up next to him under one of the spare blankets he kept in a chest at the foot of the bed. Though Evey might have fallen asleep beside him often she only awoke in his bed twice. He typically sent her to her room at some point in the night.

If simply sleeping beside him was too much, being nude as well would certainly cause a problem. It was not a leap for her imagination to conjure thoughts of his reaction. V would not see it as she intended it. First, he would not think the playing field level because her skin was unblemished and his was a forest of scars. Second, if Evey used nudity as a defense what respect he had for her would be diminished. V would probably also see it as an admission that what she had done was horribly wrong. No, nudity would not help her cause.

After what felt like hours of strategizing, she retrieved a blanket and laid down beside him on top of the covers fully clothed. After a moment Evey decided it would be okay if she held his gloved hand. The rest of the night was spent staring at the ceiling.

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**I know I said it at the top of the page, but I have to say again how grateful I am to Belmont-Bellamy for helping me sort out several problems I was having with grammar, pacing and tangents. The goal of all this for me is both entertainment and growing as a writer. I hope the changes have made this chapter an easier and more enjoyable read. IMHO I can already see the difference and I owe the growth to my new and very astute friend. Thanks again!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. leaves in a disgruntled huff**

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Chapter 12

V woke and pulled himself into a seated position in his bed noticing several disturbing things as he did so. First, he was in a good deal of pain. Second, his waistcoat was open and missing most of its buttons. Third, and much worse, he was without trousers.

Why was he in such disarray? V searched his memory trying to recall the events of the night before.

Memory bubbled up revealing the past few days and the pattern repeating over and over in his head. Evey's face, etched with concern, beneath which anger lurked, burning deeper, haunting him from the recesses of her chocolate gaze.

Madness had finally forced him to reopen the room. The pattern burned into his skin, written in his blood and witnessed by Evey. V had not explained. She had asked and he had not answered.

Instead he had told her to leave. Apparently, for the first time in memory, Evey had done as she was told.

Where were his trousers? V lifted the covers and looked. The bandage wrapped around his thigh was amateurishly tied. It was not his work.

_Oh. God._

Evey had seen him naked. She had touched him.

She had left him.

Of course she had.

Naked. Insane. Either was ample reason.

Exhausted, in pain, and completely disgusted with himself, V slowly swung his legs over the edge of his bed, waited for the dizziness to pass and slowly made his way to the bath.

Once there V stripped out of his ruined waistcoat and shirt. Standing before the mirror he turned a critical eye on himself.

Reflecting back at him was a scarred ruin of a man. Body, mind, and soul; none had survived undamaged.

Where Evey still there, could he explain?

A creature born of fire was destined to burn until the flames that gave him life were snuffed out. V could not help what he was.

When his madness impacted no one but his enemies it had not seemed important. Instead V had viewed it as an asset. It enabled him to set his own course and operate outside the moral construct forced upon others. He could do what most dared not.

When Evey arrived everything changed. Suddenly his madness had an audience and what had seemed normal to him suddenly seemed less so. V stopped talking to the paintings and moved most of his swordplay out of the living areas. He locked his projects and hobbies behind closed doors to avoid explaining them. The longer Evey lived in his home the more V became aware of his abnormality.

His scars took on a new identity and where once they had been prized badges of honor, now they were a source of fear and self doubt. V well remembered the revulsion on peoples faces in the early days after Larkhill. He had been an object of fear and pity for all that saw his skin. Experience taught him his allies were shadows and his home was in the darkness human eyes could not penetrate.

To see pity or fear on Evey's face would kill him.

When she came home with him to live, the Guy Fawkes costume also took up permanent residence. There had been no other choice.

Now his carefully kept secrets were exposed. She had violated his privacy and then, just as he feared, Evey had run away. At least he had not had to see her expression when she looked at him.

Grief washed over V.

"V?" Evey's voice was like a knife cutting into his misery.

He almost fell over in his rush to slam the door closed. With fumbling fingers V turned the lock and then stumbled back to lean against the sink. _She's still here! _

"God, you scared me. I thought I lost you again." Evey said, her voice closer informing him that she was in his room.

_She's still here_, ran repeatedly through V's head like a mantra. Ambivalence stole over him.

There was silence for a moment and then a loud creak as Evey leaned against the door.

"I'm so sorry, V. I wanted to be here when you woke up. I just, I just had to take care of something." She paused for a moment then continued slowly, "I know you must be furious with me. You were bleeding and I had to make a choice."

It was clear to V she had scripted the scene in her mind. Her words sounded rehearsed in his ears.

Planned or no, it was a damning admission. Evey understood what she risked and had proceeded anyway. Anger took over as the dominant emotion on his internal battlefield.

From the other side of the door Evey had no way to know he was entertaining thoughts of violent reprisals. Her monologue continued, "Was that selfish of me? Wanting you to live? You really would rather I let you die than see your scars?"

Every fiber of V's being screamed, _YES!_ His hands balled into fits as he fought down the terrible desire to crash through the door, rip her eyes from her skull, and take back all she had stolen from him.

Silence ensued again as Evey waited for a reply far past the point when it was apparent there would be none. With a sign she tried again, "V, this would be so much easier if you would come out here and talk to me. I know you're angry. I knew you would be."

"Then why?" V spit the words out between clenched teeth.

Evey tried the lock. "Are you serious? Choosing between your life and your privacy? If the tables were turned, you would have made the same choice, V. In fact, you did. Twice. Once to save me from a black bag and again to rescue me from fear. Remember?"

"Evey, I…" His rage sputtered to a banked flame.

She had a point.

Had he not stripped her naked? Had he not made sure she felt the sting of his staring and the malicious intent of a guard awaiting only opportunity? Though he hated himself for it, a part of him _had_ been appreciative of the view. _What a monster,_ V thought. _I am naught but what you accuse, Evey._

Evey's preplanning was beginning to pay off and V was grudgingly forced to admit she had caught him off guard and without the ability to refute her claims. V said nothing suffering through the silence that drew out between them as he waited for her to make the next move.

Finally Evey stopped rattling the door handle. He heard a thump on the door as her head hit it. Her voice was exasperated and sad when she said, "V, I wish circumstances had been different. I really am sorry."

V moved to the door and put a fire mangled hand on the cool wood. A hand such as his, so ugly, so blood stained, could never touch the smooth ivory skin of the beautiful girl only two inches of wood away.

No fairytales here. The Beast would never be a fair prince. Instead Beauty, seeing the ugliness within, must run to avoid being eaten alive. V could do nothing to restore himself in her eyes. "I understand."

"Please come out. I don't want to do this through a door, V." There was an edge of anger in her voice now.

V's first response was a childish one involving staying right where he was until the stars fell from the sky. His second was to cringe at his own ridiculousness and his third was to confront the inevitable with the dignity presidence required of him. "A moment please."

"Okay."

For a split second, V considered walking out as he was. She had already seen him naked. Part of him needed to see her pity and disgust in order to abandon completely the foolish hope that perhaps she could love him in spite of himself. If he could hate her, he would forget her but his pride failed him. V could not stand to see what he knew he needed to in her eyes.

V dressed in the only clothing available to him without asking for Evey's help. In the treatment of burns there were many unpleasantries not the least of which was controlling the growth of scar tissue. Pressure garments were used to combat thier growth. For twenty-three hours a day for a little more than two years V had worn a custom made bodysuit that clung to him like a second skin. By the time he was able to take it off, he no longer wanted to. It had _become_ his skin and V had new suits made in a thinner, more compliant black material.

Many years later the habit remained. In the pre Evey's days, V had not bothered with clothes over them unless he was heading topside. With a woman in the house, the bodysuits became inappropriate. Comfort gave way to chivalry and Guy Fawkes took over as second skin.

V glanced in the mirror and decided he cut a fine specimen of manliness as long as he was covered over with something. His physique was quite good, even if he did think so himself. Self confidence proved fleeting however and it was not long before he thought himself a silly old man attempting to impress a girl with his muscles as if he were a teenager.

Reminding himself that no matter what he did she was leaving, V finally opened the door.

Evey had moved to sit on his bed, her knees pulled up to her chin arms wrapped protectively around her legs. She looked small, fragile, and lost.

When she saw him Evey unfolded and stood, eyes on the floor. V tried to stand still against the scrutiny of her gaze as it lifted from his feet to the mask. "Wow. That's an…interesting look for you."

"Don't mock me, Evey. You haven't the right." Anger flared and V began to wonder if staying in the bathroom until she left would have been the wiser, or at least safer, course of action.

Her head dropped and Evey slumped back onto his bed. "I'm sorry."

V's emotions vacillated again and he found himself feeling sympathy for her. It was terrible she had been forced to witness his insanity, touch his lizard skin, or feel such pity for him as she gathered the courage to leave. He felt compelled to lighten the load for her and get the nasty business of goodbye over with. "I knew eventually you would see and I knew what the result would be. I expected this."

The energy in the room shifted again. Evey's head jerked up sharply and there was irritation in the glare that searched behind the mask for his eyes. "Really? Expected what exactly?"

It was all becoming too much for V. _Please just go, Evey. Do you not see how you are torturing me?_

"That I'm leaving?" She asked when he said nothing.

V nodded and felt the floodgate of cold despair open and wash over him quenching the remaining embers of his anger.

Evey laughed derisively.

V wanted die.

Stifling a last snicker she returned to staring at him. "You really are a very silly man. Let's go through all the reasons I should have already left, shall we?

You have killed probably hundreds of people and you are completely unapologetic. You blow up buildings. You tortured _me_, the woman you say you love. And, as if I should be surprised, you have your own rubber room."

Evey marked his sins off with her fingers, each damning him further into a lonely hell that was as much his creation as that of his tormentors. Put like that, he was the most wretched life form on earth. He wanted to correct her, reset the death toll to sixty-seven, but the exact number was not the salient point. The fact there were any was damning enough.

And as if to drive a final stake through his heart she asked, "What did I say to you yesterday?"

It was a rhetorical question and V waited for her to answer it.

Evey stared him dead in the face. "I said I loved you."

V noted the past tense.

She stood and moved toward him. V suppressed the urge to take a step back and regretted it as her hand reached out brushing the cheek of the mask. He pulled away, but Evey moved with him refusing to let him break the touch. "Do you really think after all that, a few scars would change my mind?"

"Evey…" V felt confused and betrayed by the hopefulness that encroached on the grief he was prepared for.

She kissed the mask.

V was shocked. In all his preformed expectations of eventual exposure, this was not among them. Surely she could not know the real extent of the damage.

Without meaning to he gave voice to his concern. "How much…"

"Did I see?" She finished as if expecting the question and wanting to hurry past it. Her hands on his second face became caressing. She looked down examining his chest for moment and then back up, trying but failing to meet his eyes. "I was as respectful as the circumstances allowed, V."

"Is that so?"

Evey blushed bright red and dropped her eyes. "I could pretend I didn't see your…um…" she gestured toward his hips, her blush spreading to her throat. She could not look him in the eyes when she continued, "I tried not to look. Really, I did."

V found himself thankful for the mask that hid his own blush.

"Are you very angry with me?"

A good question. V considered it for a moment and decided he wasn't angry, embarrassed in the extreme, but not angry. To take down the tension of the moment he offered, "You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer. Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishman." (11)

"I'll take that as a no." Evey laughed. "So we're okay?"

We. Seconds before V had been convinced she was leaving. Now, she was referring to two very separate, very different people as 'we'. Evey said it so casually as if it were the natural state of things. How much that small word implied. Trust, love, respect, and an intimacy he had never considered having. If V was a member of a unit of 'we' then he not only had all of those things, he had to reciprocate them. Could he do that?

Evey had his love and his respect, had had them from the beginning. But was he capable of trusting? Of being trustworthy? What about intimacy? Another big word with many implications such as honestly, openness, and sex.

It would be less than truthful to say V had not considered the later or to deny the copious number of hours spent in its contemplation, but he had never considered the possibility could be in his immediate future. It had all been a sort of dream, a non-reality he found pleasant to drift off to sleep with.

Unable to address such thoughts with Evey so close to him, his mind bounced on to the question of honesty which was an equally large hurdle. V had sworn honesty, but he was also maintaining an 'if-you-don't-ask,-I don't-tell' policy regarding the truth. It was working well for him since Evey had learned early on not to ask.

There were so many deliberately evaded questions and so many more unasked ones V could feel them bouncing soundless and unuttered off him whenever they were in the same room together. He knew there would be even more now what with the temporary insanity and the nudity. C_an I do this?_

"V?" She nudged him.

"Sorry."

"I can understand if you're still upset and..."

He cut her off. "You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earnestly I say it, how earnestly I feel it, without knowing my secret heart, and the hopes and fears and anxieties with which it has long been laden. If ever there were love in the world, I love you." (12)

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(11) & (12) Charles Dickens – A Tale of Two Cities

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**Thank you all for the supportive comments and helpful feedback you have given me! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Dear and very patient readers, I am pleased to inform you I am FINALLY over my writers block and humbly present to you the fruit of much labor. I must thank Bellmont-Bellamy for kindly sticking my feet to the fire and making me talk through my block. **

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****Chapter 13**

It had been a long, nearly sleepless night for V. So much was different. It was strange to consider how much three small words could change everything. He had said them and she had returned them to him.

The rules of decorum had been abandoned. Over his admittedly weak protests, Evey elected to stay the night with him. Not atop the covers as she had a couple times before but under them, next to him, occasionally against him.

It seemed every time he might drift off, she touched him. It was not like before when she might hold his hand or lean against his arm. No, now she seemed determined to get as much of her body against his as was humanly possible.

He was not by any means complaining but her sudden increase in comfort level brought his lack of it into stark relief.

V was of two minds about sleeping together. On the one hand, he was as red blooded male as any bloke and so aroused by her proximity his self control, which once had the strength of granite, was becoming as brittle and weak as soap stone which would crumble at her touch. On the other, he was unlike any other man. He had a list a kilometer long of reasons a relationship would never work.

In some ways he wished he had never said the words which had brought him to this uncomfortably comfortable cuddle. In a life where nothing gained had come without gut wrenching sacrifice, V wondered what he would be forced to give up in exchange for the gift of Evey's love. He no longer possessed anything he could not easily part with except Evey herself. Was he to be the scorpion to her frog? At the end of their romantic journey would he destroy her?

Evey shifted against him and V's thoughts moved with her. His problems momentarily forgotten, he wondered if she was dreaming and what her dreams were about.

Reality had taken on a dreamlike quality for him, but he didn't like it. After Larkhill it had taken months to learn how to distinguish between what was really happening and his nightmares. Most of his dreams now were pleasant fantasies involving Evey and a variety of positions and locations, but he had known they were dreams. Now the line between fantasies and reality was once again blurred.

He had to actively check to reassure himself the warmth of Evey's small body pressed so close to his was real. The bristle of short hair poking through the thin material of his shirt sleeve as she buried her face deeper was real. The hand trailing butterflies down his torso to rest just above his bandaged midsection was real, wonderfully, terrifyingly real.

He had been close to her before but never like this. In the past he had held her when she cried, offered his strength when she was afraid and his shoulder when she was tired. He had been happy to do it, enjoying the weight of her trust as her body leaned against his.

All along he had wanted more. He had wanted to hold her because he needed her warmth, because sometimes he was too tired to be strong, and because he wanted to pretend there was more between them than the complex dance of captor and hostage.

He no longer needed to pretend. He no longer had to want. The knowledge was as terrifying as it was liberating. _God, if for once you chose to listen to me, please don't let me hurt her._

Evey's breathing changed. "V?"

"Have a good sleep, love?" His hand moved over her shorn hair stopping at the hairline of her temple. He could touch her now.

Evey stretched, pushing her chest hard against him as her legs moved away.

"I thought I was dreaming." She said though a yawn.

"I understand." V replied. To her the merge of dream and reality was welcome.

Evey curled back against him, hesitated for just a second and then draped her leg back over his. Where the contact had been pleasingly intimate when she slumbered, it became uncomfortably forward when she was awake. He tried to hide his anxiety but knew he failed. He could not will his body to relax.

"Am I hurting you? Do you want me to move?" Evey asked, frozen against him.

He shook his head determined to give her what any normal man would. A normal man would welcome her closeness and he would be aroused by it. He _was_ aroused but he was more horror struck by his lack of self control than interested in the possibilities it presented.

Evey wiggled closer to him then, her entire body pressed against his side. The suggestion was obvious. Her voice was husky as she taunted, "You _sure_ you don't want me to move?"

_Not anymore, no, _part of him wanted to say while the other part, which was keenly aware of her legs proximity to the evidence of his growing arousal, strangled his words before they passed his airless throat. Fear gripped him as he realized how unprepared for this level of intimacy he actually was. Gradually becoming aware of his self imposed suffocation, he choked in a breath and exhaled her name.

"Sorry. I can't help it." She stopped wiggling and rested her head over his heart.

Panic had begun to set in bringing with it a great deal of self loathing. He wished she would put her head elsewhere. He did not like how the rapid beating betrayed him but he would not push her away. He could not explain if he did.

He wanted to hold her and be held by her. What was wrong with him? Why could he not enjoy this simple pleasure? Why could he not set foot on the path he so badly wanted to follow?

"Did I tell you yet that I love you?"

He felt the words she spoke into his chest more than he heard them.

"You have now." In spite of his inner turmoil, V smiled behind the mask. Such small words but they carried a mountain of hope.

Evey's smiled against his chest. "You're going to get sick of hearing it."

"I rather doubt it." V muttered, hoping with enough repetition he would find a way to believe it. If he accepted Evey's love, if he returned it as ardently as he wanted to, would he damn them both?

Evey propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him. Her fingers turned idle circles on his chest.

It was too much. V shifted away from her, sitting up, legs over the edge of the bed. He moved too fast and his head swam for a moment reminding him he had recently suffered substantial blood loss which was not aided in the least by his rebellious erection.

Distracted by this completely normal masculine response to a beautiful woman, V momentarily forgot his internal war with God and his left handed gifts. For long seconds he entertained an internal debate regarding the merits and perils of falling back into bed with Evey. What would it be like to show her his love and to feel hers? Would it be okay? Would he inadvertently hurt her?

He cringed inward unsure he could answer his last question. As long as he remained uncertain, he would have to restrain himself.

Evey's soft voice cut into his thoughts, "You know, I couldn't understand you before I went to Gordon's. I didn't appreciate how special this place is or how dear to me you had become until I thought I would never be able to see you again. I felt like the biggest fool for running away. Too late I realized you were the most trustworthy person I had met since my parents died." She paused.

Her voice had more of an edge to it when she continued, "It never occurred to me when I was black bagged you could be the man behind it. Once you revealed what you did, my trust was shattered. I hated you for making me believe in you only to be proven horribly wrong. I was so hurt and humiliated. I couldn't forgive you. It took me a long time to understand it was really a gift you'd given me. It took even longer to understand the price you paid to give it to me. I finally have the ability to forgive you but I cannot stop wondering what else you could do to me. Does that sound strange?"

"You forgive me?" V asked, surprised she could do what he could not.

Evey's hand lighted on the center of his back between his shoulder blades. V wanted to lean into her touch, to invite her to explore, but instead he froze. His mind and body went to war as his brain presented a long list of concerns and his body countered with a shockwave of desire. The sensation was like being torn in two and was only worsened when her hand withdrew and a helpless sigh filled the air around him.

Evey moved away from him, pulling her leg in to her chest forming an upright fetal ball. V's heart broke at her retreat.

She looked up at him. "Yeah, I did. And I didn't bring this up again to punish you. I understand if you aren't a hundred percent sure about me. I've broken your trust too and I get it if you don't want to put yourself out there again, but you have to give me the chance to make it right, just like I'm giving you."

V opened his mouth only to realize he had nothing to say. Why had words so utterly failed him lately?

"Evey, I..." Finally words forced their way to his lips, but watching her search in vain for his eyes, guilt washed over him taking his voice. If oratory skill was the pound of flesh providence demanded of him, V realized he could not relinquish it. He could not sacrifice his words. She could not see his eyes looking upon her lovingly and or his lips offering a gentle understanding smile. All he had was Guy Fawkes' satirical grin and his powers of speech. The grin alone was not enough.

"See? I've put my foot in my mouth and I don't even know why. I know the quality of your character. It's what I fell in love with. But I know so little about what makes you…you. You see me so clearly, but I'm still fumbling around in the dark. I'm trying so hard not to…I mean I understand…I mean…sometimes I know when I've said something wrong, but usually I'm just afraid I have." Evey was looking at her toes when she finished. He had not thought her posture could collapse further inward, but the human ball beside him had shrunk.

Every personal question she had ever posed to him he had evaded. By the time he promised himself he would honestly answer she had learned not to ask. It was not fair to make her live in the dark, but he knew under a spotlight he was a frightful creature. How could he show her what she needed to see and yet remain hidden?

The truth of it was he did not trust her with his pain. He hardly trusted himself with it. No words of his own could be found to articulate his thoughts so he relied on Harding to explain. "There are accents in the eye which are not on the tongue, and more tales come from pale lips than can enter an ear. It is both the grandeur and the pain of the remoter moods that they avoid the pathway of sound." (14)

Knowing from the look on her face it was not enough, he sighed, "Though rare, any hurtful words you might utter are solely the fault of my silence."

Evey sat quietly staring at him for a moment as if trying to decide what her next move should be. Finally a small smile spread over her face and her body unfolded like a flower blooming. She reached out and touched the mask, tilting it toward her. "When you're ready, V. In the meantime, you just have to forgive my insensitivity sometimes."

She moved to sit beside him. V watched her feet dangle next to his. She was so small and fragile. He was surprised when she leaned over and kissed the cheek of the mask. With a sigh V could interpret as either resigned or content she stood up and stretched her arms over her head with a yawn.

His eyes locked on the few inches of bare tummy her pose revealed and wished he could put his ungloved hands on her delicate skin. It was one thing to know she would let him. It was another to think of the way she would shudder under his touch. Not in a good way. Not in arousal but in repugnance. _What am I doing?_

Her stretch lasted far longer than necessary and he could see the tension had left her muscles. She was maintaining the pose for the sole purpose of letting him look. V turned his head away.

She sighed again and let her arms fall. "I'm going to go check my messages and see what your revolution needs from me today."

Without a backward glance she left the room. He was again alone with his thoughts.

* * *

(14) Thomas Harding – Far From the Maddening Crowd

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**Thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Once again I must apologize for making you wait but Chemistry has proven more taxing than I gave it credit for. It is nearly enough to make a girl rethink her career plans. Anyway, here is the latest and I beg your indulgence if the next chapter takes as long as this one to be posted. Thanks for reading! Cheers, Free**

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Chapter 14 **

Waking up in the arms of the man she loved for the second day in a row amazed Evey. It still seemed like a dream and she had to pinch herself to make sure she was really awake.

The heart beating under her ear was steady, the chest rising and falling, gently rocking her, had the easy rhythm of sleep. The torso she leaned against was warm and solid inviting her to snuggle closer. When she did a large, strong hand slipped from her shoulder to her waist as he unconsciously pulled her in tighter.

It was the bliss of heaven to be cradled against V.

_He loves me_, she thought. _He really, truly loves me._

A sense of confidence came over her and she draped a leg over V's pressing her pelvis against his hip. She had done it yesterday too and the results had not been quite what she wanted but it was worth trying again.

Again it worked, but not as she intended.

Simultaneously V's breathing changed and her back hit the wall on the far side of the bed. The impact was enough to knock the wind out of her. She slumped to the floor choking as she went down.

"Oh God, Evey. Are you alright?" V crouched beside her clutching her shoulders lifting her to her feet.

She could not gather the air to speak.

"I am terribly sorry, love. Please forgive me." He was holding her up patting her back.

"It's…it's okay, V." She choked out as her breath began to return. "Really, I'm fine."

He released her and sat heavily on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

Evey sat beside him, shaken and a little frightened. He was immensely strong even with bullet wounds, bruises and blood loss. He was also faster than any human had the right to be. She wondered vaguely how he became as he was but looking at him, the living picture of self disgust, she let go of her questions and told him sincerely, "I forgive you. It's okay. My fault really…"

"No. Don't ever say that. Don't ever take responsibility for a failing of mine. You do neither of us a favor by doing so." His head snapped up and she knew the eyes behind the mask were glaring at her.

Fear pricked at her for a moment, but then his gaze returned to the floor. "I couldn't stop in time. It is my fault."

She put a hand on his back and felt his skin crawl under her fingers but he did not move away.

V had a hard time with physical intimacy. She had noticed it about him back in the early days. It had not improved with time. Touches had grown in frequency and there were times when he forgot it bothered him, but the fact he did not like to be touched remained.

Was it stupid of her to think after love was declared whatever barriers he erected to keep his distance would crumble and he would finally let her in? Apparently so.

Twenty years of solitude was bound to have an effect, but she could not understand why he was avoiding her instead of trying his damnedest to have a thorough shagging.

"V?" Her hand stroked defiant circles on the middle of his back.

His head came up and he reached for her free hand taking hold of it. All Evey noticed was how he held it on the bed between them when it would have been just as easy to draw her hand to his thigh causing her to lean against him thus instigating the next inevitable step. Didn't he want her?

Taking charge, Evey pulled their clasped hands onto her leg and leaned against him resting her head on his arm. "Have I told you I love you yet?"

V swallowed hard but did not retreat from her. There was a smile in his voice when he replied, "Not today, love."

"Do you love me, too?"

V had started to caress the back of her hand with his gloved thumb but he stopped and there was an edge to his voice when he said, "You know I do."

"Just making sure."

He turned to face her, holding her hand tightly. "You doubt me?"

"I've never doubted you." She sighed, feeling the weight of her white lie as if it were an elephant sitting on her chest. She gingerly touched his bandaged side changing the subject as she did so. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. I mend quickly." He replied letting his gaze drift away from her again. "Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yeah. More shocked than anything. I'm fine." Evey withdrew her hand from his side and pushed on his shoulder wanting him to lie back down and hold her again. Wanting to start the day over the way she dreamed about, she put a hint of suggestion in her voice. "Another day or two in bed and you should be right as rain then, huh?"

He didn't pick up on it. "There is no need…"

She pushed his shoulder harder, needing him to understand without having to be direct. "I think a day in bed is exactly what the doctor ordered."

He chuckled, "Then I would rather die than stay in bed."

Anger flared at his rejection and Evey snarled, "Hate doctors or the idea of being in bed with me?"

"Oh." Popped out of his mouth as the light dawned and he relented, falling back into bed. His wig splayed out on the pillow, the mask grinning, hiding what she really wanted to see. As if he knew the limited access she had to his emotional state, his voice was infused with love as she relied, "No man in his right mind could resist a day in bed with you, Evey."

_Maybe so, but _you_ aren't in your right mind, are you_, she thought as she scooted up to the head of the bed and curled up next to him but without touching him. If he wanted to hold her, he would have to make it happen.

For a long time they lay side by side, not touching, not speaking. It grew more and more uncomfortable as time dragged on. She wondered what he was thinking lying so still beside her. It felt like forever to Evey as she fought the desire to roll onto her side and close the gap between them. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, make love to him. Why didn't he want that too?

A beeping noise startled her out of her thoughts.

It startled V too, who sat up quickly and began to follow the sound as if it were the detonator for one of his bombs. She wondered if it was.

"Found it." V declared, picking up a small piece of titanium Evey recognized as the mobile phone Finch had gotten for her.

It was a military issue, state of the art, secure mobile. She remembered the look on Finch's face when he was relating the features of the device to her. He had not forgotten the Shadow Gallery and he had clearly chosen the phone for its underground capabilities.

"Thanks," Evey said as she took the phone and left V's room feeling grateful for the distraction from budding insecurities.

VEV

_I have so much to be happy about_, Evey thought, _why am I so damned miserable?_

V was in love with her, at least he said he was. Norsefire was teetering on the brink of collapse. Her goals were almost in reach and she should have been overjoyed but instead she felt pensive and insecure.

The Gallery was not conducive to work with the revolution. She could not come and go easily and her mobile only worked well on the roof terrace. Additionally, she did not want to leave V alone. The resemblance of his current mood to the one which lead him to his rubber room was not lost on Evey. More than anything she feared the return on the pattern he had obsessed over.

What had begun with promise had wilted back to the uncertainty of the early days. She had been banished to her bedroom since the morning of the accident. She had tried repeatedly to talk through it, but V refused in his usual infuriatingly polite way.

If they were going to have any kind of future they had to work it out. The old Evey would have given up already. The version V had created was made of stronger stuff.

When she went looking for him he was seated on the couch. There were papers scattered around him on the floor and coffee table. Panic rose in her chest and the pattern loomed large in her imagination.

On a normal day he would have heard her approaching and would acknowledge her before she set foot in the room. This time he seemed not to notice which only confirmed her fears.

Several steps back from him she discovered he had several books out and was making notes. Relieved to discover he was not obsessing over the pattern she stepped closer and asked, "What are you reading?"

He did not answer.

"Should I be worried, V?" She asked.

When he did not turn she cleared her throat and tapped him on the shoulder.

He started and reflexively gathered up the papers on the couch beside him as if trying to hide them. "Sorry, I became lost in the story. What were you saying?"

Evey leaned over him, her chest close to his shoulder the radiant heat of his body making her heart leap. If only he would…she stopped the thought before it concluded knowing he would not respond the way she wanted him to. Hoping to hide her disappointment, she tried to cover with a joke, "What are all the notes for? Complicated passage is it?"

He did not immediately respond but continued to gather his notes off the floor and to cover the small pile of books next to him. She did not see any of the titles but the one he had been reading. The spine said _Pride and Prejudice_.

In an instant Evey knew what he was doing. She had once commented on how Mister Darcy was every girl's fantasy. She had also told him about a number of fictional men she fancied. She would have bet a year's wages the other books hidden in his pile of notes contained every man she had ever expressed an interest in.

"It would appear so." V said as he carefully laid a pad of blank paper over his pile of research materials.

Thrilled to have evidence he was trying, Evey prodded, "What were you thinking about?"

"You."

Deciding to push her luck she curled into the couch beside him, her arm touching his. When he did not flinch away, she laid her head on his shoulder. She could tell he was uncomfortable but chose to ignore it. "Oh yeah? What about me?"

He put a hand on her thigh, but then lifted it so fast it felt more like a slap than an attempt at affection. He sighed and sounded crushed when he spoke. "That I owe you more than I can give you."

_Here we go again_, she thought. She toed the pile of papers sitting on the coffee table revealing another title. _Jane Ayre_. It was as she suspected. He was pushing her away while at the same time studying up on how to keep her. Confused by the ambivalence of his actions, she blurted, "Do you want me to leave, V?"

"No." He replied quickly. There was another pause and then he continued in a softer voice. "I cannot imagine life without you, but I want you to be happy. I fear there will only be heartbreak here for you."

"So you would spare me eventual pain by making me miserable now?"

The mask swung around and faced her. "You are miserable?"

_Tread lightly girl. He lives in a world of words. Say what you mean and mean what you say,_ she reminded herself before answering, "I'm confused. Why can't I be near you anymore? Why are you avoiding me?"

"Why are you always on the phone?" He snapped.

"Are you serious?" Evey asked. _He's jealous of the phone?_

"I mean only that you seem to be avoiding me too, love."

It was more than she could take and she wasn't sure whether to laugh or hit him. "I'm hard at work on _your_ damn revolution, V. Since you don't want to do it anymore I have to. Remember, dead man?"

"I'm sorry to have burdened you."

She had meant it more as a joke than an accusation but he failed to see the humor. Suddenly, it wasn't funny for her either. "God damn it, V. I don't want an apology."

"What _do_ you want?"

"I want to know what the hell is going on here. I want to know why you're avoiding me and why you won't touch me. I want to know why you won't tell me anything about yourself. I want to know why the man I intend to spend the rest of my life with won't even tell me when his fucking birthday is."

"Your language is unbecoming of a lady." V scolded sounding like her father.

_Manipulative bastard_, she thought knowing he conjured images of her father on purpose. "Don't you dare change the subject. What is so horrible about me you cannot stand my touch? Do I smell or something?"

"I rather enjoy your scent…" He chuckled.

"You know what I want?" She asked, cutting short his giggles while grabbing one of his nervous hands. It immediately went dead.

His gaze followed his hand from his lap to hers. "Clearly not."

She twined her fingers through his and squeezed. "I want you to _show_ me you like my perfume. You _used_ to if you recall. I knew what you were doing when you would pretend to be brushing dust off my shoulder. Don't think for a second you are so smooth I didn't see right through you."

He said nothing but pulled his hand away and stood up, moving to the center of the room.

From a distance the mask blazed holes into her and against her will she found herself squirming. Finally he said, "Perhaps you wish for things I cannot deliver."

"You used to deliver. What changed, V? Why can't I have the things I had before when I was just your prisoner?"

Another long silence passed during which Evey began to feel bad. He was a very sensitive man and her barb had clearly struck a nerve.

"I don't want to hurt you." He said softly.

Exasperated Evey replied, "_This_ hurts me, V"

"Then I fail on all fronts." He said and strode rapidly away toward his rooms. The sound of the lock clicking closed reduced Evey to tears.

VEV

Another day was spent in silence and solitude. V never emerged from his rooms and Evey spent her time purposefully distracting herself with the phone. Once there was no one left to talk to she fell to fitful sleep in the banishment of her own bed. By morning she was tired, cranky and afraid she had irreversibly ruined things with V.

As was her new habit she checked her messages as soon as she woke discovering no one wanted anything which could not wait. Evey lacked the energy to deal with another problem on top of the one she was living with.

Making her way from the lift back to her room, Evey noticed V standing in front of the juke box absently turning pages as if the perfect song eluded him. She had seen him do it thousands times. He always sought refuge in music.

_I love this man. God help me, I really do._ Sucking in a breath meant to instill courage Evey approached him ready to try again.

This time he heard her and cocked his head toward the sound of her shoes on the flagstone floor. It was a scene they had repeated many times. Evey found herself remembering all the good times and smiling in spite of the grim circumstances surrounding them.

There was no harm in trying again. "Hi, V."

"Good morning, Evey. I trust you slept well." He said sounding as if he was reading a script and acting happy to see her.

"Oh yeah, like a rock," Evey lied. If they were to have cinematic conversations she would oblige. It was better than the miserable lack of communication of the days preceding. "How about you?"

"I have never slept much."

"And here I thought it was all my fault. How conceited of me." Evey retorted wishing immediately she had kept her mouth shut.

He sighed. "I don't want to argue today."

"Good, I don't either."

"Did you ever imagine living with me would be this difficult, my dear?"

"V, no relationship is perfect." Evey answered, hoping he understood. Living in his world of books he probably thought love always had happy endings.

V continued flipping pages. The finger jabbing the button was doing it with more force than necessary. "I don't want you to look back on your time here and feel you've wasted it, Evey, as if you sacrificed so much and achieved so little."

Stepping close to him only to have him shift away, Evey felt she had no choice but push him. The only other choice was to give up which she was not yet willing to do. "Okay. Shall we investigate my sacrifices, V?"

"No."

"I think we have to."

He put both hands on the top of the juke box and stared at the page of CDs he had stopped on. "I wish you wouldn't."

"If wishes were horses…what do you think I'm giving up exactly?" She asked glaring at him, daring him to meet her eyes.

V slammed a fist on the box and swung toward her. For a moment she feared he would hit her and it must have reflected in her eyes because his posture melted and his head dropped again. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned back against the juke box.

"Alright, if you insist, Evey." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My life is here and occasionally in the shadows of the world above. I am comfortable here. I am comfortable in this skin. Your life is above. You are the face of the revolution and if you succeed, your life will be changed forever. For the sake of all involved you have to be protected."

Evey cocked her head in question, "I know of no safer place than here with you."

"I wish that were true."

"It was an accident, V."

He shook his head and she knew he did not agree. As she geared up to argue the point from a different angle, he asked, "Have you considered how safe you are coming and going from here?"

Downshifting quickly Evey was happy for the redirection to a topic she was prepared for. "As a matter of fact, I have. The building above, it belongs to the Catesby Company. Wasn't Catesby the ringleader in the Gunpowder plot? Who do you suppose owns Catesby, I wonder? Might it be you, V?"

"Do you recall what curiosity did to the cat, my dear?" His arms pulled in tighter against his chest.

Unsure if the gesture was self protective or angry, Evey had to explain. "Please don't be offended. You aren't the only one thinking about how tough organizing my life is going to be. I was thinking that since you own the building, I could take a flat in it, perhaps on the top floor where the Gallery lift comes out. The rent could include the exclusive use of the roof so you keep your garden terrace. What do you think?"

"I think your idea is very risky." He said as his arms relaxed to his sides. She interpreted his reaction to mean he liked the idea but could not support it without further thought.

Having planted a seed Evey returned to the real subject under debate. "Is it wrong to want to live here with you? Am I supposed to love you from a distance? How do you propose to make that work, V?"

"It cannot." He said in an emotion glutted whisper. She instinctively moved toward him but he backed away. "Evey, you must be realistic. I will never walk through a park with you, never eat at a restaurant with you. I will never escort you to parties…"

_What is he talking about_, she wondered as she interrupted, "You think I care about parties?"

"More than parties, Evey."

He heaved a deep breath and Evey knew what he was about to say would hurt them both. "The 'incident' as you called it; that is me. I am the thing scratching about in the darkness of a blind rage. I am the pattern littering the floors here. I am the killer, the monster you feared. I am the man who tortured you and I am the man who remains steadfast in the belief it was the right thing to do no matter how much I regret having done it. I am the man who _will_ deny you happiness, deny you family and friends, and deny you the intimacy of my flesh and of my past. And yet for all that you would stay?"

"Put like that no sane person would be so stupid."

As the words left her mouth Evey wished she could take them back. He had referred to himself as a _man_. He was not talking about the superhuman idea, but himself as a person. It was a huge step.

She realized V was scared. He might even be terrified.

Perhaps it was easier to force her departure and thus control it than trust her to love him as he was. He did not love himself so he preferred being an idea. She was battling his self image, not a lack of love for her. It was not about her at all.

Finally understanding what she was facing Evey changed her approach. "I guess I'm certifiable because I see it differently."

V looked at her and she had the distinct impression he had not wanted to.

She did not try to touch him. Instead she tried to let her words convey her meaning. It was risky since she knew she was not eloquent. "I am very aware of what you are. I don't for one second believe I've seen the last of the violence or the…rubber room. However, in addition to allwe agree you are, I see more."

This part she had to get absolutely right. "I don't know what has made you as you are, but I see a _man_ with deeply held principles who would fight to the bitter end to protect them. I see a _man_ who has been betrayed. I see hurt. I see pain and I see a _man_ self aware enough, _sane_ enough, to understand the limits of his emotional strength and flexible enough to release what he cannot hold. I see a brilliant mind and a kind heart that would rather suffer through the remainder of life alone than risk hurting me. What I see, V, is the _man_ I was destined to love and the one I cannot live without."

"But…"

"Good God, V. That was probably the most eloquent I will ever be in my entire life and you have a but? But what? But what about weddings and white picket fences and bouncing babies?"

"Don't you want those things?" For the first time she could remember his voice cracked.

She bit the inside of her lip, trying to decide how to handle his question.

"Could you explain to me why I would trade living in a place like this with a man like you for a tiny duplex in the suburbs filled with cheap MDF furniture where I spend all day alone with a bunch of screaming brats only to have a husband come home in the evenings, silently eat the food I cook, collapse in front of the telly and ignore me until bed when _maybe_ he gives me a quick shag before dropping off to snore all night?"

As always, he had a comeback. "It cannot be as bad as all that. No one would do it if it were."

"The point is V, I want _you_ and all that comes with you." She replied wishing he could understand he had ruined her for an average life. Her journey to the end was going to be an extraordinary one because V had made it so.

He shook his head. "You don't know…"

Convinced she knew what he was saying she leapt in, cutting him off. "You're right. I don't really know you. Who here can fix that I wonder."

He held his hands out in a gesture she read as helplessness. "Evey…"

It was a perfect opportunity and Evey took it slipping under his reach and throwing her arms around him. She tried to ignore the length of time it took for his arms to come around her back or the way he wiggled away from her so only her face touched his chest. "The bottom line, V is this. I love you and I trust you not to hurt me. If that were enough we would be in good shape, but you can't love me if you don't also trust me, V."

His arms squeezed her and Evey felt her knees go weak. To be tight in his arms held hard against his body was exactly where she wanted to be. His breath was warm on her ear as he said, "I do trust you."

"Really? When is your birthday?"

He drew back and his grip weakened though he did not let go. "How is that relevant?"

"When is mine?" She asked looking up and searching for eyes she had never found.

"May 28th," came the automatic reply.

"Is it fair you know mine but I don't know yours?"

"When has life ever been fair?"

Losing her grip on her patience, Evey pushed out of his arms. "God, it's like arguing with a brick wall! Are you really this determined to be unhappy? What could you possibly be hiding that is so important?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Evey." He growled.

"So you would rather rip my heart out than risk another toss across a room?"

"I would rather break your heart than put a blade through it!" He shouted. Immediately a hand flew to the mouth of the mask.

Evey was too stunned to move.

"I want to keep you safe."

Incredulous, Evey asked, "You have to protect me from…you?"

"Yes," he choked out as he turned his back and fled the room.

VEV

After tossing and turning all night, Evey had reached a decision. As the smells of breakfast began wafting through the Shadow Gallery, she began to pack.

As she stuffed a last pair of socks into an over full bag, V appeared in the doorway silently watching her.

"You're leaving." He stated in a voice devoid of emotion.

It was the moment she had been dreading. It was the right thing to do but it hurt just the same. She was risking losing him, but if she didn't take that risk he was lost already. Hating to say it aloud but knowing she had to, she replied, "I think we both need a little air."

He said nothing and when she looked up he was no longer in the doorway.

Evey had expected some sort of protest.

Maybe the cruel voice in the back of her mind was right. Perhaps she had saved him the trouble of putting her out. Feeling confused and near tears she followed him.

The man standing in the kitchen making an omelet did not have an air of relief about him. Instead his body language screamed abandonment. Watching him stand there fighting for dignity, Evey almost changed her mind.

_God, I love this man. Please make him feel it._

Evey debated wrapping her arms around him. To hug him was to show him affection her way. To hang back from him was to show him respect his way. She opted to go his way and sat at the kitchen table. He did not acknowledge her.

"V, I'm not leaving like you think I am. I'm coming back. If I ever want to get ahead of the phone calls I need to take care of some things topside. Until you decide about the building, I need a flat closer to here and I need to do a little shopping. It's all stuff I put off so I could take care of you but you're fine now and I can't wait anymore."

Her heart lifted as she watched the tension in his shoulders ease. He glanced over his shoulder as he said, "It is not safe for you up there."

This was more like the V she knew. "No one knows my face. I've gotten rather good at all this cloak and dagger stuff you know. I've had an excellent teacher."

He placed the omelet down before her. She did not bother to ask him to eat with her. She knew he would tell her he had already eaten.

He sat at the opposite end of the table and watched her with an intensity which made eating difficult. Silence ruled between them as she ate.

As the last bite went into her mouth V finally said, "I will not stop you."

"I know. It's one of the many reasons I love you, V." She said with her mouth full. His head tilted and she knew he was silently reprimanding her for her lack of manners. Thinking about areas where his manners were less than perfect she asked, "What are the odds you'll follow me?"

He shook his head. "I will not."

Surprised she asked, "You trust me to walk the streets alone?"

"I will have to wont I?" He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap as if there were nothing strange about his newfound trust in her abilities.

Evey thought about it for a moment and then the light dawned. "And of course Finch probably won't let me out of his sight anyway."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "A fact I have considered."

"Will you also consider what _I_ said?" Evey asked as she moved behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder. The jolt under her touch was brief and his gloved hand almost immediately covered hers. It was a good sign.

His head inclined ever so slightly toward her hand as he said, "No man knows till the time comes, what depths are within him. To some men it never comes; let them rest and be thankful! To me, you brought it; on me, you forced it; and the bottom of this raging sea has been heaved up ever since." 15

She squeezed and then pulled her hand away.

V rose from his seat and offered her a hand. When she took it he timidly pulled her against him. It was progress and she was tempted for a moment to simply stay there, but instead pulled away and went to gather her bags. At the door to the tunnels Evey turned and looked at him still standing where she left him staring at the flagstone floors as if they held the secrets of the universe. Feeling bad for leaving but knowing she was doing the right things she said, "I'll see you Wednesday night no later than seven o'clock."

_You're forgetting something_, she thought as she opened the door. She stopped.

"V?"

He looked forlorn and beautiful standing beside his piano. "Yes, Evey?"

"I love you." She said, wanting nothing more than to drop her bags and run back into his arms. Instead without waiting for a reply she pulled the door closed behind her and set off for the surface.

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15 Charles Dickens – Our Mutual Friend 


	15. Chapter 15

**Finally! I give you chapter 15. I am very sorry to have taken so long to get this posted. Hopefully the next one will be up much faster as I still have a week before school starts up again for me. I'd like to thank all of you who have been so encouraging and also those of you who have relentlessly nagged me. I needed it. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

**Chapter 15**

Watching Evey walk out the door was worse than V had imagined. It was a scenario he envisioned regularly, one which plagued nearly every interaction they had and one which ultimately proved to be self fulfilling. His fear of her leaving had driven her away.

_And you thought you were smart, didn't you_, he sneered at himself. _Think you can work this one out now, genius?_

Wednesday was five days away. Five days to discover how far he could go for love.

She was asking too much. Her demands of trust were beyond his capacity to give. But to live without her…

It always came down to trust and in every case he was unfailingly disappointed. Even Evey, the one time he trusted her, had betrayed him for a pedophile priest and the vain hope of pardon.

He did not hold it against her viewing it as much his fault as hers. When faced with options, human nature always chose the path of least resistance. He had known that simple truth, had learned it the hard way, but when it counted he had forgotten. Worse. He had hoped.

Was he to once again prostrate himself at the temple of hope? What if he gave her what she wanted and was again betrayed?

VEV

It was Saturday morning when Evey stopped for a cup of tea and a scone in the bakery beneath the small flat she let the day before.

She found a seat at a table by the window and as she drank her tea she watched the people in the street. Into her idle wonderings about the places people were bustling off to and how much their lives were about to change walked a tall, thin, disheveled man in khaki green.

He would not have caught her eye under normal circumstances but he had something she was very interested in. He had facial burns. Not much was visible behind mirrored sunglasses and a mop of bark brown hair but she was immediately intrigued. She had seen lots of burns in books and videos but only once in real life.

His gate had a very slight limp and there was a marked stiffness in his back as he bent to buy a newspaper. Evey could not tear her eyes away even as he ducked into the same bakery she sat in. She felt the sharp sting of her cruel observations when he nodded to her as he took his seat two tables away. To hide the guilty flush burning up her throat she pulled her scarf tighter round her neck as she cast her eyes to the floor.

Curiosity rapidly overtook guilt however and with her head down she watched him from under the veil of her lashes noting his hands as he reached for sugar for his tea. His scarred fingers did not bend correctly as he fumbled for a packet.

Her gaze moved up to his face again. From the look of it he had had a lot of work done over the years. His ears and nose appeared reconstructed against the third degree burns of his cheeks.

He took a sip of his tea and Evey's thoughts drifted away from him to V. Were his burns better or worse than this man's? He certainly won the battle for dexterity with not a single indication his mobility was abnormal. She wondered what kind of access to medical care V had had.

V was the bravest person she had ever met but he lacked the courage to face the world without a mask. This man probably couldn't topple a government or fight his way through a firing squad but he could move about in public. What made them so different? They were both burn victims. They both had scars. The man at the table was not handsome, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something beautiful about him anyway.

Evey wished he would take off the sunglasses wanting to see the fire in his eyes. She had seen enough photographs to know what she would find in them, but seeing them alive and staring down the pity of onlookers was something she needed to witness.

It occurred to her she was staring again herself.

Just as the realization dawned, he looked up from his tea and cocked his head toward her. _I am not staring at you because you're ugly, I'm admiring you_, she thought as she tried to rearrange her expression to make her intention more clear. In spite of her best efforts she could not stop the blush blooming red and guilty on her cheeks.

He chuckled.

Embarrassed, Evey slurped back the rest of her tea and picked up her bag to leave. As she passed his table, it seemed wrong to walk by him without saying something. Feeling awkward and aware of how easily she could put her foot in her mouth she said, "I'm sorry for staring at you. I'm sure it happens quite a lot but I wanted to tell you…"

He was looking up at her and she could see her own red face mirrored back in his glasses. "…I just wanted to tell you, you're beautiful. Fires might destroy, but bravery is always easy on the eyes."

"You flatter me." He said, through a smile revealing perfectly straight white teeth.

"No, I don't. I just…my…boyfriend is a burn survivor too. It's hard for him. He hasn't come to terms with it yet." The moment she said it she realized how stupid it sounded. V would laugh outright at being called a boyfriend. She needed a better word to describe him.

The man wasn't paying attention, instead watching a small child who was staring open mouthed at him. The girl's mother noticed and chastised her loudly. As others turned to see what the disturbance was about the man sighed, "Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever does."

"You did." Evey said as she glared down the few people who had not already looked away.

He shrugged. "If you say so. I just wanted tea more than I didn't want to be stared at."

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you you've given me hope. Have a lovely day." Evey put a hand on his shoulder and felt her hope surge again when he did not flinch away. If this man could do it, V certainly could. Feeling better than she had in days, Evey left the bakery and went to meet Finch.

VEV

V had promised not to follow her, but he missed her. Resisting the urge was very difficult but made a little easier with surveillance. He'd had access to the Norsefire mainframe for years and through it to all the cameras and listening devices of the Eye and the Ear. He had also placed a fair number of his own cameras around the city.

At first he was afraid for her, but after a while realized though they might be looking for her they were not looking in any of the right places. Nor were many resources dedicated to finding her. There were threats to Norsefire control coming from so many directions now they were stretched thin trying to find them all. If she kept her head down, the odds were definitely in Evey's favor.

Though pleased to discover she was relatively safe, he found another reason for concern.

Evey had always spoken fondly of Eric Finch. During the past month she had recounted many conversations, meetings and meals she had shared with the Chief Inspector. She considered him a friend and trusted advisor. V had thought little of it at the time. Witnessing it was something altogether different.

The cruelest blow of all was the irony. He had pushed them together. V had used Finch, taken him on a guided tour of the underbelly of Norsefire's government. He had led the cop straight to Evey's door hoping when he was dead Eric would be her ally. V should have been pleased his posthumous planning was working but instead wished he could strangle Evey's new friend.

Where once he had forced Evey to face her fears and conquer them, she was now returning the favor. He wondered if Evey was cunning enough to use Finch to illustrate her point and turn a request into a threat.

In a history filled with threats, abuses and cruelty, V had never submitted. Not once had he bowed his head and acquiesced, but now, whether she intended it or not, the threat came from the woman he loved. _All's fair in love and war…_

Perhaps she really did have feelings for Finch. He was thoughtful, intelligent, kind and completely, boringly normal. He was exactly what he appeared to be. After living with a masked man for so long Evey probably loved Finch's easy openness.

What Finch gave without thought was agony for V.

VEV

It was late when Evey returned to her flat. How much time could be spent arguing the same issues, the same problems and always reaching the same impasse? It was such a waste of time. It galled her to know they would have the exact same argument tomorrow.

When she pushed open the door Evey sighed. She had wanted V to see what his life would be like without her but she had not anticipated facing the stark reality of living without him too.

Her new "home" was a small, bland, lifeless space resembling every other cupboard sized flat she'd ever lived in. She glared around the small room realizing home was not a place. It was the people occupying it. Her parents flat had been home, the first and only home she had known until the Shadow Gallery. V's home felt like her home now and she missed it acutely as her eyes took in the lonely magnolia of her new flat.

She hated it and everything it represented. There was no life in it, nothing welcoming or friendly. It felt like what it was; the desolate, desperate hiding place of a soul scraping by. It's only saving grace was its proximity to the tunnel entrance leading to her heart's true home.

Flopping on the small, squeaky bed she missed the huge bed in V's room. She even missed the smaller one in her own room. She glanced at the clock and knew V would not be asleep yet. He hardly ever slept. It was as if he felt he had stolen his life and had to use as much of it as he could before someone discovered it was missing.

_What is he doing right now_,she wondered. _Probably cooking. _

Evey got up and wandered into the tiny kitchen. She had bought some groceries but when she opened the icebox nothing looked appetizing. What was V making? Knowing him, it was some sort of culinary delight the thought of which made her mouth water.

She pulled out a frozen dinner and popped it in the microwave giggling at how appalled V would be if he knew what she was eating.

_God, I miss him, _she thought. _Does he miss me? _

She shook her head. That wasn't really the question. She knew he did. The real concern was whether he missed her enough.

In hindsight, it was easy to second guess her decision to push the trust issue. The reality was, he trusted her more than anyone else. She knew it. Every day they were together he trusted her a little more, but he trusted himself a little less. Twenty years alone, now faced with everything he thought he would never have and she expected him to be overjoyed rather than unsettled.

Making it worse, what she had said could be interpreted as a threat. For all his creativity, V always took her words literally. _You lived for me but that's not enough. Strip yourself naked and prostrate before me or live the rest of your life alone with your regrets. God, I'm evil. _

_No. It wasn't really a threat_, she told herself as she sat down on the couch with her meal, _it was more like a request with foreseeable consequences_.

She had made it sound like he had to have it all sorted by the time she came home. It was unrealistic and cruel to expect of him. She wished he had a phone so she could tell him, but tell him what exactly? Never take me seriously because I will always back down if I think you might say no? I'm afraid you won't do as I asked and I am too weak to stick to my guns? She sighed disgusted at the corner she had backed herself into.

He would try. She knew he would. _Why do I keep hurting him? _

Her thoughts drifted back to the man in the bakery. He was where she wished V could be. Not because she wanted to change him, she loved him as he was, but because she wanted him to finally be free.

The way she saw it, V had traded one cage for another, barred in by fear of rejection. She would not reject him. She doubted anyone would after speaking with him.

The first time she meet him he had quoted Shakespeare, beaten the stuffing out of three Fingermen, graced her with a tongue twisting alliteration and then asked her out. She had thought him absolutely mad, but something compelled her to go with him anyway. Maybe it had been the audacity of it all or perhaps fate had guided her to do the most insane thing she had ever done. Going with him that night was the bravest, craziest, most pivotal moment of her life.

Unable to finish her food, she dropped it in the bin and prepared for bed. As she brushed her teeth she thought about Finch.

Finch had told her once he was disappointed to have never really met V. By the end, well aware of the viciousness of V's vendetta, he was hunting him not to jail him, but because he had many questions only V could answer.

Evey thought the pair would be fast friends if given the chance. They were very alike in many ways. Both were thoughtful, insightful and tenacious. Neither was afraid to ask the tough questions and enjoyed the debates which resulted. Both had an appreciation for music and a love of good food. But where Finch was exactly the earnest hound dog he appeared to be, V was shadow and mystery. V was creative and passionate. Finch was careful and a little plodding. V filled every room he entered. Finch was the unseen wallflower. The similarities and contrasts seemed ideal to Evey and she was positive if V ever decided to widen his circle of acquaintance, Finch was a logical first choice.

As much as she loved the idea, she would not push it. It was enough to ask him to let her in. Anything else had to be at his discretion.

Climbing into bed her thoughts went back to the man from the bakery. Somehow he was comfortable in his skin. How did he do it? What finally pushed him back out into the world? Did he have a lover or wife? Were they together before or after the fire? Evey wished she could meet his significant other and ask. She had so many questions.

VEV

V had thought he was going to die from his jealousy.

He had installed bugs and cameras throughout Finch's home nearly two years before and they had been useful in the past but never like there were now.

He watched them in the kitchen as they cooked together, sipping wine and chatting idly about to-do lists and future plans.

Over the years he had watched other couples, people the Eye was interested in, as they went about their daily routine. Evey and Eric had the same easy familiarity. If he didn't know better he would think they did this regularly.

Finch slid a pan into the oven and then leaned against the counter near Evey. "I'm not thrilled with the flat Evey. You have to know that."

She reached for the wine bottle and refilled their glasses before turning around to lean her back on the counter causing her spine to arch and her breasts to be pushed forward. _She is flirting with him! _

Finch gave her an appreciative once over which made V want to rip his eyes from his head and feed them to him.

Evey did not maintain the pose long. After a sip of wine she put down her glass and then pushed herself up onto the counter. Rounding her back and letting her elbows sit on her thighs she admitted, "I do, Eric. Frankly I don't like it much either but I don't want to risk the Shadow Gallery with all my comings and goings."

Finch smiled. "So that's what it's called. I wish I'd gotten a better look at it, but I was a little shell shocked during my first visit."

_Nosey bastard_,thought V as Evey corrected, "Your _only_ visit."

"I assumed as much. You have to admit it is a lot safer than your current home." Finch continued.

Staring into her wine glass Evey shook her head. "No, home is where the heart is and mine will always be in the Shadow Gallery."

_What? But I thought…but you just did the back arch meant for breast appreciation…and you left. _Confused but suddenly hopeful, V leaned forward in his chair as if getting closer to the monitor would somehow make a difference.

Finch sighed, staring into the red depths of his wine. "I understand. Mine is buried in Ireland. I never did, but some get their hearts back you know. You're young yet. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to love again."

Evey swallowed the rest of her wine and set the glass down hard enough for the tinkle of glass to be picked up by V's microphone. Looking straight at Finch she said firmly, "No. V was it for me. I'll love him until the day I die. Sounds dramatic doesn't it? I don't know how else to say it really. You cannot replace someone like him."

V's heart beat wildly in his chest as if it were dancing for joy. He switched off the monitor and leaned back in his chair. Guilt began to seep into his happiness as he realized how little faith he had in her. _She was right, you bleeding sod. If you refuse to trust her you will never love her as she deserves. _

Why did he have to see her tell someone else before he would believe? Was her word alone not enough? Apparently not. _I am a fool. _

In that moment V came to a decision. He would give Evey what she asked for. It would not be pleasant. The consequences might be disastrous, but he owed it to her.

_Stop focusing on the negative. Consider the possibilities. _

What would it be to bask in the glow of her love? To touch her? To make love to her? No longer a dream but a warm, embracing reality? The feel of her would be the most sublime pleasure of his life. His imagination drifted away, and for a long time he floated in a cloud of perfumed lust.

The physical distance he had maintained was unnecessary. He could touch her and she would not recoil. Without his gloves if he wanted. She could touch him…_find something else to think about! _

He looked at the clock. It was nearly a new day. In less than an hour it would only be three days until she came home.

Such a long time to wait.

V wandered around the Gallery looking for something to do. He was not the least bit tired. He was not hungry. He was no longer interested in spying, feeling guilty for having done so in the first place. He thought about the piano. It had been a while since he had played. Not since he had beaten his burl wood beauty nearly to death.

Instantly his happy thoughts were replaced with doubts. He made an attempt to fight them off but failed.

It was not merely access to his body Evey wanted. She wanted access to his past as well. _When is your birthday? _

Damn, damn, damn.

She thought there were happy memories to share. She wanted to laugh at childhood tales. He had nothing but flames, pain and disease to share with her.

V wondered how much she already knew. She and Finch were close and Finch knew more about his past than anyone alive. Surely he had told her. But Evey would never have been able to resist mentioning what she knew. In the heat of an argument it would be a killer blow.

The more he thought on it, the more convinced V became Finch had not told Evey about the diary or the Rookwood conversation. Perhaps he had not wanted to hurt her with the truth. Perhaps he would not dig up past tragedies he could not prove. V had promised him evidence but had never delivered it. Shortly before the fifth he had gone a step further and stolen back the diary.

He'd had a good reason. Ideas might be bulletproof but men were not. It was a truth reaffirmed for him through Evey. She knew very little about him, but he was no longer a symbol or an ideal to her. He was simply a man. One who was fallible and selfish.

Witnessing his diminishment in Evey's eyes he had known what he had to do. Finch was not the type to put forth what he could not prove. Without the diary he could do nothing. The man would remain a mystery while the idea lived on aloof of pity, anger or love. Most importantly, free of personal motive.

He had sought revenge. He had a right to seek it and to glory in the ruination of his enemies. But his purpose had been so much more than personal. Much had been done to him, but it was what had been done _through_ him which had to be undone.

Therein lay the problem.

Evey's life had been very hard and in many ways he was responsible for her troubles. He could not assign the ultimate blame to himself but the fact remained without him they could not have done what they did. Evey's brother would not have died. Her parents would not have been politicized, they would not have been black bagged and killed. She would not have grown up in the Juvenile Reclamation Project. Her life would have been different, happy, normal.

Evey would not want the truth once she had it, but how do you explain to someone they do not need to know why? It is the most fundamental human question. Why? It is the first query a child learns and the one they take with them all the way to the grave. Even when the answer would be terrible the question must be asked.

V wished Evey could be satisfied with the present, with what she had rather then question its origin. What had happened was terrible. Why it happened was worse.

Why hadn't Finch told her? He might not have evidence but he did have the confirmation of Dominic Stone. It would not be enough for the court of public opinion, but it would suffice for Evey Hammond. Perhaps he shared V's opinion that in this case ignorance was bliss.

Evey was tenacious though. She would not understand he was trying to protect her rather than avoiding an ugly memory.

He could not love her if he did not trust her, she said, but perhaps he wasn't the only one with trust issues.

VEV

It had been a long day of meetings, but Evey was pleased with the outcome.

They finally had agreed to a plan. Those seeking immediate revenge had finally been overwhelmed by reason. It had taken weeks of argument but Evey had won assurances prisoners would face jury trials rather than immediate death. The win had to be credited to a former Lord Justice of Appeal and several barristers who had come to her aid. Restoring justice had to be a top priority.

There were so many top priorities. Security, justice, the economy, the list was endless. It was overwhelming to think about.

The New Year would be rung in with a new government. They were less than a month away from finally breaking the back of Norsefire. There was a meeting planned for the 28th at Jordan Tower where party leaders would gather to finalize plans to regain their iron grip of control. Evey's group planned to move against the building and arrest everyone in attendance.

At the same time, another team would blow up Finger headquarters. They planned to do it during shift change to maximize the casualties. Evey had tried to find a less violent solution, but they were undermanned and even the Lord Justice agreed with the plan. Survivors would be arrested and tried. Given the hatred the people had for Fingermen, the ones who died in the explosion would be the lucky ones.

Evey felt out of control. Things had grown too large for one person to oversee. She was not a queen or dictator. She had to lean on other people, but it frightened her to share the reins of V's revolution. A few weeks from now there would no longer be a revolution. There would be a nearly a year of transitional authority and then a new government would emerge putting power firmly back in the hands of the people.

It was staggering to think of and she wanted to talk it over with V. He was so good at drawing out her concerns and helping her work thought them. He resisted offering outright advice, but Evey knew he planted seeds. She felt lost without him.

It was only Monday.

As she walked back toward her flat she wondered if she could go home early. If V was half as lonely as she felt, he would be happy to have her back sooner.

Again she faced the trouble of holding firm. V sought boundaries and then ways to break through them. If her resolve proved only as strong as a wet paper bag he would walk all over her. He would never intend to turn her into a resentful doormat, but it would happen if she were not careful.

Besides, she still had plenty she needed to do before returning. Tuesday would be eaten alive by more meetings, but Christmas was evident in the bright candy colored lights and lively window displays. She planned to shop Wednesday before returning to the Gallery.

One Christmas had already been spent with V. His prisoner for nearly two months, knowing he had murdered Louis Prothero but not knowing why, she had been afraid of him. There had been nowhere to escape him either. The Shadow Gallery was, is, V through and through. There was not an inch of the space which did not breathe with the life he had given it.

Making it worse, time seemed to stop so deep underground. The only way to mark its passing was via the telly. Christmas trudged forward to near complete domination of the programming but went unmentioned in the Gallery.

On Christmas Eve the isolation had been crushing. She had sought him out because she could not stand spending another Christmas alone. After a few moments conversation she forgot he was a killer in a mask and knew only the warmth of his voice and thoughtfulness of his conversation. During a lull when he had gone to search out a book to illustrate a point he was making Evey turned on the telly and found a Christmas concert. Book forgotten he had sat down to watch it with her. When it was over she'd asked him why he did not celebrate the holiday. As he always did with questions which might humanize the idea, he had blown it off. However, by morning he had had a change of heart. When she woke there had been a small tree and several gifts for her. He gave her back her memories and she had cried at the thoughtfulness of it.

When she lamenting having nothing to give him, he had claimed to be very difficult to gift. This year she faced that problem directly. What do you get the man who has everything but the things no amount of money can buy?

VEV

V had finally found a diversion for his overactive mind. Standing in the midst of a veritable ocean of holiday decorations he wondered how far was too far. He did not want to overstep the bounds of taste but he wanted to do something voluptuous.

He had made a very poor showing last year. He could not remember ever having celebrated the holiday though he must have in times Before. Unless he were Jewish or Muslim. No matter. He would do better this year.

Decorating fed his inner artist and proved to be something he enjoyed. Several years back he had liberated a shipment bound for the Chancellors palace which was little more than holiday decorations and booze. At the time he had been disappointed. Now he was a little overwhelmed.

He had gone to the surface for a tree and greenery. Having made an error estimating ceiling heights, he had been forced to cut the tree down a bit. Then there had been a problem of circumference. It was huge and consumed every room he put it in until he switched out the piano for it. He felt a little guilty since his piano had seen nothing but abuse and neglect in recent weeks, but it had to be done.

Having positioned the tree he began garlanding the walls with the holly and juniper bows he had purchased. Then as he began stringing lights he let his mind turn to gifts.

What to get her? Last year he had brought her home things from her old flat. He'd given her back as much of her life as he could. Pictures, clothes, the blanket from the foot of her bed, things which had been part of her life before he had disrupted it.

In return she had made him breakfast. She was not a culinary prodigy.

This year would be different. He wanted to overflow the space beneath the tree with packages. So what would she want? Jewelry? She didn't wear any. Clothes? Maybe. Music? Definitely. What did she listen to when she wasn't with him?

The one gift he was certain of would not fit under the tree. He had all the supplies he needed. It would be a stretch to finish it by Christmas, especially with Evey at home and no good excuse for disappearing for hours at a time.

Was it wrong to want to shower her with gifts? Was it really a pathetic attempt to buy back the love he feared the truth would cost him?

_Don't think like that_, he admonished himself

VEV

Evey was bogged down with bags. She had shopped as if she would never see another store for the rest of her life.

She wanted to make Christmas special for V. There was no way to make up for twenty lost years, but she wanted him to never forget the first real holiday they shared.

Shopping for V proved impossible at first. She wanted to get him something he would appreciate but given his taste and her budget she could not find anything. It wasn't until she wandered into a kitchen shop and saw an absolutely hideous apron it occurred to her to appeal to his sense of humor instead.

She bought the ugly apron. In a men's store she bought the gaudiest boxers in the history of ugly undergarments. As she went along she found more and more items she knew he would be amused by. By the time she realized she could carry no more, she had bought a host of items, several of which she doubted she would have the courage to give him.

Rounding out her purchases with wrapping paper and ribbon she returned to her flat.

She had promised to be home by seven which gave her just enough time to do the wrapping and get cleaned up before going home.

Her excitement grew with each package as she considered V's reaction. Christmas would be fun again. The holiday had lost much of its childish allure as she had gotten older and realized that kind of joy was meant for other people. The last real Christmas she remembered had been when her brother was still alive. After he died, everything changed and frivolity was replaced with sadness.

It would not be sad this year.

Her shower was long and leisurely. There was no hair to fuss with and very little makeup needed. She chose her clothes carefully, deciding to wear a dress as if she were going to a party rather than returning home from a trip.

She wore red because it was his favorite color. The dress lost something of its appeal under the heavy black coat the weather required but she knew he would like it.

She packed up everything she planned to take and left her flat nearly skipping with joy.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm afraid there will be lengthy gaps between chapters from now on. I am taking 19 hours this fall and I have very little time to devote to writing at the moment. I intend to finish but it probably wont be until the mid-semester break before I do.**

**Chapter 16**

V had known her for a year but only recently realized his tastes had dominated everything. It was appalling how little he had done to accommodate her in an aesthetic sense. It also made his current task much more difficult. He did not know what Evey liked.

Did she like bold colors? Did her preferences lean to the modern or the classics? She herself was small and delicate, but did she like the objects around her to reflect her petite beauty? Why had he never paid attention? What if she loved kitschy themes? Or, heaven forbid, country kitsch straight from the crafts shop. French country would be better…

_Perhaps I _was_ gay Before. Who else would worry about something like this? _V chuckled at himself, taking advantage of a rare moment of humor at the expense of a forgotten past.

He checked the time, knowing he was wasting it in contemplation. He only had until seven o'clock. Three hours. Butterflies consumed his stomach and he felt ill. The moment of truth was nearly upon him and his courage was dwindling the closer it came.

He could not think about it. Instead he pushed his thoughts back to the question of aesthetic tastes. Deciding not to decide, he chose instead to limit himself to the barest essentials.

When he first began to attack the supply trains he had been looking for very specific things. Anything not fitting his requirements had been piled into storerooms without a second thought. He could not remember ever having gone back through his enormous collection before.

There were cases of wine, a box of caviar tins, a cask of Irish whiskey now thirty years old, and a myriad of other things V had no use for. Most of the large crates contained weapons. He probably had enough to supply a small army for several months. It occurred to him Evey's group might need them and he vowed to offer them to her.

Mixed among military essentials and vices, V found gifts Sutler had intended for one of his many mistresses. There were dresses, shoes, jewelry and an assortment of larger items household items. These were the things he had hoped to find.

There was too much to choose from. Far too much. People starved while Sutler wined, dined and waged war. V had attacked less than one percent of Norsefire shipments. How could so much be wasted on so few?

V recognized the burning heat rising in his blood and had to remind himself the culprits were dead and their government on the verge of collapse. As he always had, he would use their wealth to his suit his own purposes.

Considering whether or not rocket launchers were appropriate Christmas gifts, V began moving the piles in the hallway to his staging area where the next phase of Operation Gifts for Evey would take place. By the time he was finished it was time to begin getting ready for her arrival.

V showered and dressed quickly. Running a comb through his hair he watched his hand shake in the mirror. He repeated the motion willing his hand to be still, but it refused. The butterflies returned, filling his belly and threatening nausea. _It will all be over soon_, he told himself. That was the problem. Either way it worked out, it would soon all be over. Either way his life would be completely different. The direction his life would take hinged on reactions he could not control.

Unable to sit still, he leapt to his feet and retreated to the comfort of the kitchen. Though he felt as if he would never eat again, he knew Evey would be hungry. Trying to distract himself he artfully crafted a fruit and cheese tray. It did not take as long as he hoped. Time slowed to a crawl as V tried to find something else to occupy himself with.

VEV

Evey wished she had not worn the dress. Burdened by so many bags she felt like a pack mule and she had begun to perspire. Though her new flat was by the entrance to the tunnels leading to the Shadow Gallery, there was a kilometer distance from one door to the other. She wished she had a miner's hat with the lamp in the center. Holding a flashlight while attempting to navigate a series of ladders as she moved deeper underground was hard enough. Doing it with a bag of breakables over each arm was nearly impossible.

The journey took longer than she thought it would. Looking at her watch in the lamplight, she knew she was ten minutes late and still at least ten minutes away.

He probably thought she wasn't coming.

Considering the options Evey dropped nearly all of her bags and jogged the rest of the way. It took five minutes to get there and a couple more to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow. She had wanted to look confident and together when she pushed through his door but there was no hope now. Her face was flushed red, her hair was damp and salty, and her coat had not protected her dress from the dirt of a fall.

_Oh well. _Taking a deep breath she pushed open the door to the Shadow Gallery.

The scent of Douglas fir and cinnamon greeted her and the first thing she saw was the huge tree standing where the piano had been. There were boxes of ornaments and other things in a neat pile next to it indicating V was not yet done. Perhaps he wanted her to help.

As she took step inside she wondered aloud where he was, "V?"

"Here."

She took a step to the right and saw V standing calmly next to the couch. Overjoyed to see him again she bounded across the room and flung herself into his arms. He caught her easily and did not let go for a long, glorious moment.

"I really missed you." She sighed, basking in the warmth of his embrace. He had not backed off, not flinched, not let go. Progress had been made.

His arms around her were tight as his chin came to rest on the top of her head. "I can see that. I'm glad you're back."

VEV

"I love you," she said.

"Then I am the most fortunate man to have walked this earth," V replied, hoping by the end of the evening he still was.

He could feel her smile against his chest. "And I'm the luckiest girl."

"Ah," he sighed, squeezing her tighter before taking a step back. As much as he wanted to avoid it, the time had come. He could put it off until she asked, but the way his heart was pounding he thought the suspense might kill him.

He looked over at the coffee table and the diary sitting atop it, daring him to open it and reveal himself. Turning back to Evey and her pensive expression he said, "You might not think so when we've finished."

She shook her head and took a step toward him, "V…"

He cut her off. "Is qui diligo credo."

"Huh?" she blinked, reminding him she did not speak Latin.

He translated. "He who loves, trusts."

She looked away from him, clearly considering something. When she turned back to him her eyes were moist. "V, I didn't mean…"

"No. You made a request and I shall answer it. Perhaps it is for the best." He cut her off again. He had already resolved to reveal everything to her. She had asked him for his story and even if she let him off the hook now, it would haunt him. If he gave her only a piece of the story she would ask again. It would come out in short painful bursts, each worse than the one preceding it. Better to get it over with all at once.

She tried again. "I don't expect…"

He reached out and took her hand. "The ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore. 16 No more shadows or illusions. No more walls or obstacles. You shall know and then you will decide."

She stepped into him, putting her arms around him again. "I've already decided."

_Evey you are making this harder, stop please,_ he thought as he said, "A decision made in ignorance cannot stand."

She pulled her head back and looked up, brown eyes earnest. "I just wanted to know when you birthday is."

He let his hand rise from her waist to her cheek. It felt good to touch her, to feel the subtle increase in pressure as she leaned into his hand. He was tempted to procrastinate, but unwilling to prolong the pain. He dipped his head and pushed away from her again. "I know. But then you would want to know something else. There would always be another question, Evey. It is better to just be done with it."

"I don't know what to say." She mumbled.

V went to the coffee table and picked up the book that contained either his liberation or his damnation. Turning it over in his hands he wanted to rip it in half and disavow the past again. Once he had forgotten. Could he not forget again?

The spiral into rage began, but he could feel her stare burning into his back. With effort he pulled himself away from the anger and turned to face her. The expression on her face was guilty.

_This is not your fault, Evey. You are not responsible, but I am. Please do not judge me too harshly. God will see I am punished for all I have done. _

Taking a deep breath he thrust the book out toward her saying, "Here."

She walked over to him surveying the coffee table behind him as she did so. She was seeing the light meal he had prepared for her, the box of tissues and the blanket from her bed. "What's this?"

He had done the best he could. There was still time to change his mind, but looking at her face as she comprehended the comfortable nest he had prepared for her, he knew he could not witness her grief. It appeared a kindness, but it reeked of cowardice. "O, what man within him hide, though angel on the outward side." 17

She cocked her head and smiled. "You're no angel, V."

"And I fear I will appear even less so when you've finished reading." He said, gesturing for her to sit. Once she had settled he stepped back feeling like the most pathetic life form on earth, but he could not face it. Choking back the tears he knew were about to overwhelm him he turned and walked away.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

He stopped and took a deep breath. "Those words are razors to my wounded heart. 18 It pains me to abandon you to a past so closely tied to your own, but I cannot live through it again. Though old, the wounds are still too fresh. I'm sorry, Evey."

Without waiting for her to reply he fled the room.

VEV

Evey watched him go feeling as if her body had turned to lead. Her heart followed him into the shadows but her body refused to leave the couch. In her hand she held the small red leather bound book he had given to her.

"I don't want to know." She said aloud trying on the lie she would have to live if she did not open the book. The trouble was she did want to know, especially when he claimed his past was so closely linked to hers. How could that be?

She looked at the coffee table again. Fruit and an assortment of cheeses, some chocolate, a pitcher of water and a glass, a box of tissues, the type infused with aloe and thus softer on the nose. She half expected a teddy bear and footie pajamas, but instead found her blanket from when she was a child was folded neatly over the couch arm.

Evey reached out and picked it up. A neighbor had saved it along with a few other things and returned them to her when she was released from the JRC. It had been lost after Jordan Tower, but V had returned it last Christmas and she had wept with gratitude. It was the last remnant of her childhood.

He wanted her to be comfortable. It was an ominous sign. Worse was the short stack of medical reference books sitting on the couch beside her and thus within easy reach.

"I don't want to know," she said again, feeling terrible for having ever asked in the first place. _He hid this from you for a reason but you had to be nosey didn't you? You had to know and now you're hurting him. Well, get on then. He can only go through this once. _

She opened the diary and read the first page. It was not quite twenty years old. Diane Stanton, M.D. A doctor wrote it, a woman. Who was she?

Evey turned the page.

VEV

V sat on the roof willing the chill air to enter his soul and turn his heart to ice. It would be easier if he could convince himself he did not care, but as Evey sat far below reading V found he could do nothing else.

She was reading the journal, something he had never managed to do. He had not known it existed until he saw it on Delia's nightstand. He had not had time to read it then, only time to skim and rip out the pages detailing things he never wanted anyone to know. Finch could leap to conclusions, and surely had, but he did not know.

He had never destroyed those pages, a coincidence requiring him to tape them back into the diary before giving it to Evey. He could have omitted them and spent a great deal of time waffling on their inclusion, but in the end decided he wanted to get it over with. She would have asked about them anyway.

Soon she would know what had been done to him. She would know what had been done through him. She would see her brother's death in a new light. She would see the brave futility of her parents. She would see her life abominated with his blood and she would either hate him for it or she would love him in spite of it.

He could do nothing but wait and worry. If by some miracle they made it past the book there was still the body to worry about. She had asked for access to his past. She now had it, but she also wanted access to his body. She would have that as well. It would all be over soon.

How long should he stay away? The worst shock for Evey would be the end when she realized the purpose of Larkhill. She would be angry at them certainly, but probably also at him. Despair built up like a wave, threatened to crash over him and he urgently sought a diversion, but found none.

Sitting along in the cold dark, V began to drown in memory.

VEV

_Oh god_, repeated over and over in Evey's head becoming a background chant as she read. She sat in a tiny ball, every muscle squeezed tight, surrounded by a sea of used tissue. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her throat raw from her sobs and her heart broken inside her chest.

She was little more than half way through the diary. V had not been mentioned. No one had. The forty-eight victims were completely objectified, not people at all but numbered subjects. They were nothing more than lab rats.

Diane was so cold. Her words were nothing but clinical notes, the sufferings of her victims described in the most unfeeling way. She ran tests on them. Countless tests. Baselines she called them, finding out if they were healthy before she made them sick justifying it as the best way to track the disease pattern.

On the same day she injected forty-eight people with the same nameless disease.

Daily examinations followed along with experimental treatments which seemed to be worse than the disease itself. The suffering of her victims was chronicled with cold disappointment as people began to die.

The similarities to St. Mary's made Evey's skin crawl.

Despair began to soften Diane's notes. Not for the men and women she was killing but for the failure of her project and her fears over continuing funding. Her lack of progress was weighing on her pride, but not her conscience.

Out of the blue, she mentioned the man in room five. Five. V. Her spirited had perked up when his disease did not progress as the others. As the others dropped like flies and he grew stronger he became the object of her obsession.

At last Diane had what she wanted. A survivor.

It was a cruel blessing. All her attention focused on him and he was subjected to a host of new tests each worse than the one preceding as Diane tried to figure out what made him different. She had to be careful with him however because he was the key to all her plans. She started talking to him.

He claimed to have forgotten who he was. Reality smacked Evey full in the face. _He cannot tell you his birthday because he does not know. _It made sense. Why else would he have kept something so trivial secret.

She had to put the book down. For a long while she allowed her tears to flow unbridled. They may have only buried forty-seven bodies but they had taken forty-eight lives.

Eventually she gathered herself enough to pick the diary up again and continue.

The conversations Diane recounted reminded Evey very much of the V she knew. She described him as charisma personified and like a moth to the flame, Diane could not stay away from him. She claimed she found him ugly, but her words belied the fact she was attracted, if not to his appearance then definitely to his strength.

It was the same attraction Evey herself felt.

_I would never use him like this though. I would never hurt him_, she told herself even as she recognized the lie. She had hurt him. She had made him relive this. _But I love him and she didn't. I'm lancing the wound, not creating one,_ she told herself, but the justification felt hollow.

She returned to the diary. The next entry was elated. Diane believed she was close to a cure in rats and felt the key was in V's blood.

Evey shuddered.

V became a living blood farm. They fed him better. They gave him more opportunities to exercise. They let him out of his cell. Anything to make sure he produced more blood.

As his health improved the situation at the camp deteriorated. It did not matter how close to a cure she was they would not give her more funding. There was none to give. The war was sucking the nations coffers dry and she did not have the cash to finance more human trials. She spent over a page complaining about supply shortages and threats to close the facility for good.

Several entries later told of the solution V had offered and they accepted. He began to garden and, like everything else he ever did, he did it very well. Soon the staff at the facility was eating better than they had before the shortages. What cash they still had could be pumped into financing her project. She was ready to begin human trials and soon after to start synthesizing a drug for mass production.

They gave him more freedom and as she read Evey knew this was a mistake. V was resourceful. Giving him access to a computer and the ability to buy things was unbelievably stupid.

Shortly afterwards he began to withdraw. He stopped talking to her. He stopped looking at her. He went mad, painting his cell in strange designs made from the chemicals he had ordered for his garden. Diane was perplexed but Evey knew what he was doing.

_You blew yourself up, didn't you? You wanted to take them all with you._

The entry for the fifth of November was exactly as she expected. Explosions rocked the camp. Hundreds died but Diane cared only for her precious research. All her work was lost and Evey triumphed in the evil bitch's sorrow.

Then she turned the page.

VEV

It had begun to snow.

Soon everything would be blanketed in pure, virginal white until the city woke from its slumber and cut foul tracks through pristine beauty.

V wondered idly why beauty was so fragile, why anything worth having was. It seemed a cruel irony. Anything you might want to hold would fall to ash under even the gentlest touch.

His mind continued to wander as a street light far below blinked out. He looked at other streets, some well light and others nothing but shadows. He thought of painting and black to absorb huge amounts of a light color and remain dark but white could be tainted by the smallest drop of color. Why should it be so? Why did darkness always suck the light down in a vortex of shadow? Why was light so fragile?

Was he never of the light? Did he deserve what had happened? Was it karma? Was there no redemption to be had? No saving grace?

V shook his head. He wished he could let go of the questions he knew he would never answer. Everyone who could give him the information he wanted was dead, including the man he had been once.

She would ask about Before. How could she not?

She would know from the diary that he could not answer. Delia had immortalized his moment of self-rejection. It had fascinated her and she had tortured him with questions. A tantalizing anomaly for a scientist, how does a man kill himself without dying? If even he was curious, Evey would wonder too.

How would he tell her he was not as strong as Valerie? She was never broken. V broke. The morning he woke and had no idea where he was, who he was, or why he was there, he had given up the last inch.

Valerie's letter had reached him too late to save his inch, but her words had given him the will to take it back. He had been trying ever since but no matter how hard he worked, what was lost would never be restored.

He had given Evey Valerie's letter earlier than he had received it. He wanted her to identify her last inch before she lost it. He wanted her to have the chance to fight for it and it had heartened him to see her do just that.

Thinking of her, he began to wonder how much time had passed. He looked out over the London Skyline, but Big Ben was no longer there to tell him.

V sighed. Two of the most historically significant buildings in London had been razed to the ground. _It was a necessary sacrifice_, he had told himself. Neither served the purpose for which it had been built anymore. Both had been corrupted long ago and V had felt neither could be restored. Better to start over. In retrospect he wondered if his point could have been made through other means. Too late to second guess. Better to hope.

So much was now riding on hope.

VEV

_It was religious extremists. Muslims using biological warfare meant to divide us. It was! It had to be._

Even as she thought it, Evey knew it was a lie. Just another lie she had swallowed. Mere propaganda they had used to isolate and dominate their subjects.

_We were all rats in a cage to them. Lab rats in their great power experiment. Oh God, how could we have been so stupid?_

Not everyone was. Her parents had not been. They had known. Not the specifics, no one knew what Evey now did. But they had understood the corruption. They had seen what was happening and they had fought back.

_I hated them for it. _

She broke down into sobs again, sending prayers for forgiveness heavenward hoping her parents could hear her.

_They murdered children. Innocent children. They murdered my brother. They killed my family._ Realizations went off in Evey's head like cannon fire. Each blowing huge holes in walls she did not realize she still had. Brainwashed. Indoctrinated. A fortress of lies built in her mind, a prison she didn't even know existed.

V had sought to free her in that cell so like his own but he had been too kind. He had not let her see the real horror. He had tried to shield her from it instead.

V was a part of this. An unwilling part, but a part none the less. No wonder he fought. Of course he did. What choice had there been?

What they did to him was monstrous. What they did through him was infinitely worse. _If he had died like all the others, my brother would not have died. My parents would still be here. I would have a family if he had just fucking died._

For a long moment she raged against V and his determination. She hated his unnatural strength, his speed, his intellect, his self sacrifice. She wanted to turn back the clock and kill him herself. She wanted to kill them all. It was not fair he had lived nor was it fair he had taken the pleasure of killing them all and leaving none for her.

Well fuck that. There were some left. She had fought so hard to save the lying, murdering bastards too. Well to hell with them. Straight to hell with them.

She threw the diary as far across the room as she could and then leaping from the couch tore her mobile from her bag and made for the lift to the roof.

VEV

Determined footsteps rang out on the flagstone floor and the next in a series of dreaded events began for V.

He met her at the lift.

Her mobile was clutched in a white knuckled death grip and her face was so contorted by rage it was actually ugly.

He had wondered what she would do when she saw him but he had not expected her to walk right past him as if he weren't there. Her focus was completely set on the roof where her phone would work.

V knew what she was doing and it cut to the quick.

_I have stolen vengeance from her, so she will make war on the innocent._

"They didn't know, Evey." He said softly as she stepped into the lift.

She ignored him and slammed the door closed. Pushing the button her face turned skyward. When nothing happened she pressed the button again. Still nothing.

"Fucking thing! God damn it!" She whirled on him, "Why isn't this working?"

"It's broken." V lied. He had disabled it fearing she would do exactly what she was trying to do. She was reacting without thinking. She was allowing her rage to control her rather than channeling it.

She let loose a string of curses foul enough to make a sailor blush before she turned on heal and stalked toward the door leading to the tunnels.

He followed her and as she reached for the door handle leaned his weight against it so she could not pull it open.

"Back off V." she snarled through clenched teeth as she pulled the handle with all her might.

_She is not strong_, V thought as he held the door fast against her. "I'm sorry Evey. I can't do that."

"Like hell you can't. Let me out of here!" She gave up pulling and slammed her fists into the door. When she pulled them away she left spots of blood on the door. She had hit it so hard the skin on her hands had split.

In the face of her rage V found himself growing calmer. Rage he could work with. It was despair he was afraid of. "Why?"

She turned on him again, brown eyes sparking yellow flames. "God damn you! You know why."

He put his hands on her shoulders, attempting to calm her as he had when she emerged from her imprisonment. "Which is the reason this door and every other is closed until you calm down."

She slapped his hands away. "Calm down? They murdered my brother! Do you understand that, V? They killed him!"

V folded his hands in front of him and nodded. "I understand and I am sorry. All those responsible have paid, Evey, all but one."

Her expression took on a rabid eagerness. "Who? The bitch with the diary?"

"No. Me." V whispered the damning words.

She stopped dead in her tracks. "You?"

"Me."

The tension seemed to melt from her body and she slumped to the floor. She looked at the phone in her hands.

Not wanting to stand over her like a victorious beast, V went to his knees and waited. Whatever she said next would seal his fate.

After a long moment of silence she looked at him. "Should I hate you for not dying?"

"I cannot say." V said unable to meet her eyes, not wanting to see.

She crawled a little closer to him. "So you would blame the lab rat."

_I was a lab rat. Now I am a cesspool. How could she forgive me?_

She came closer still, stopping right in front of him careful not to touch. "The only reason this isn't Valerie's fault, or any of the other forty-six is because they died? Is that what you think?"

Without meaning to he reached for her hands. "It doesn't matter. If…"

"If, but, should have, could have, would have, fuck V." She choked, leaning forward and burying her head in his lap she started to sob. Long keening wails echoed off the arched ceilings and surrounded V in a thunderstorm of grief.

16 Charles Dickens - A Tale of Two Cities

17 William Shakespeare - Measure for Measure, Act III

18 William Shakespeare - Titus Andronicus

**Thanks to everyone who has been reading and keeping after me. I appreciate it!**


	17. Chapter 17

**In a monumental piece of procrastination (I should be studying for an Organic Chemstry exam tomorrow) I offer you Chapter 17. **

**If you're squeemish, you might not want to read this one. We are revisiting Larkhill. **_

* * *

_

_Pull it together. Pull it together now. Now, God damn it! _

Slowly the red haze of her anger and hurt started to clear and the first thing Evey noticed was V's hands in her hair, gently turning circles as if massaging away the hurt. _Mum used to do this. She would rub my head when I was sad._

She realized his trousers were soaked through at the same time she discovered her face was buried in his lap. Her arms were around his waist and cramping from the strength of her grip.

_Let go,_ she told herself. _Pull it together and let go._

Slowly, as if fighting her will, her hands unclenched from the muscles of his lower back and she heard him groan in relief. She must have been clutching him for a long time because her arms felt like lead and barely supported her weight as she pushed herself into an upright position.

V immediately moved settling into a cross-legged position with his back against the door to wait while she collected herself.

When most of her body was once again under her control, Evey found the courage to glance at him. He had cried with her. His clothes were damp from his chin to halfway down his chest. He was staring at the floor.

"I'm sorry, V. I guess I lost it, huh?" She said as she began her own contemplation of the flagstone floor.

"Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth." 19 He responded without looking up.

"Is the lift really broken?" She asked fearing a return of her childhood asthma. Her breath was a little short and she felt light headed.

"For now."

_It isn't really broken. He wants me to stay down here. _She tried to explain. "I'm not going to take my phone. I just wanted some air."

"I'm sorry, Evey," He said, "Perhaps you simply need rest."

"No." She responded, trying to still the tumbling thoughts in her mind. She looked up at him. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he made careful study of his hands in his lap. Evey forgot her own troubles, feeling her heart reach out to him. "I'm sorry, V. I really am."

"You've not wronged me, Evey."

"It wasn't your fault." She replied, knowing it was not, but struggling anyway.

"They could not have done what they did without me."

She took a moment to think about it. What he said was true, but there was a fundamental flaw in his logic. Were the circumstances not so bad she would have enjoyed pointing it out, but this was not a moment for gloating. "No, they had the virus before you got there. They were just trying to figure out how to make it useful."

"Without me, it would not have been." He returned, still refusing to look up.

"Because you survived it." She confirmed. His counter argument was undisputable.

"Yes." He nodded.

"So I am supposed to blame you because you had the audacity to live?" She asked.

"The fact remains without a survivor they would have had no cure. With no cure they could not have released the virus. Without the virus, the political climate never would have shifted in their favor. You cannot absolve me, Evey." He looked up, Guy Fawkes' grin a parody of the anguish in his voice.

"I can't blame you either."

His head cocked sideways, voice challenging, "Can't you? Your family…"

"Was not your fault." Evey cut him off, unwilling to hear him finish the sentence.

VEV

Uncomfortable silence descended between them. V felt as if his skull was under siege by all the thoughts trying to break free. He was splitting apart with the effort to hold himself together. No matter what he did, his control would fail. The only choice was whether to fall apart in front of Evey or to accept cowardly retreat.

Evey interrupted his thoughts, "How did you survive the fire?"

His mind instantly leapt back in time. Flames. Smoke. So much smoke. Pain. Pain. Pain. No pain. Nothing. He could feel nothing. Stand up. Get up. Get out. Run. Staccato thoughts had forced his battered body to move.

He had wanted to die in the explosion, but his legs had supported his weight. His eyes had opened and he could see. He could watch them scurrying about in the haze, blinded by smoke and fear. He stepped out in the midst of the fire, watched it lick evil tongues against his flesh and he felt nothing. No pain. No more pain.

Surveying the remains of the camp, V had known he had succeeded. They were destroyed. He had taken back what they had stolen. Forty-eight lives avenged. Countless others saved.

He stepped over a dying guard and, listening to his agonized screams, and felt victory begin to well in his soul. The rubble was filled with corpses and the air churned with the cries of the dying. It was the music of angels in V's ruined ears. The triumph of it surged through him. He was free for the first time in his memory and he roared until his throat bled.

They heard, they saw and then they ran from him and it felt righteous and just. For the first time he tasted power, he tasted vengeance and he wanted more, but as his rage reached its zenith his body had begun to flag.

V pulled himself back from the memory, unsure if he had been narrating aloud, but suddenly able to hear his own voice. "I tried to steal a car. It was the first thing I could not do that day. The skin on my hands…" He remembered watching it stick to the door handle and he had felt the first twinge of horror as his skin slipped off his flesh as if it had never been attached. He shuddered. "She took pity on me. I don't know why. Her name was Meredith. She let me into her car and drove me to a burn centre in London."

Evey's red, puffy eyes were brimming over with tears again. "God, V. My God."

He must have been talking his way through the memories, why else would she cry. He wanted to tell her to stop, to tell her he did not deserve her pity but the words would not come.

Her grief was a springboard for his own and he did not want to cry again. Too much time spent in mourning. No more. Stop. Finish the story.

It took two attempts to force his lips and vocal cords to work together. Finally he picked back up, "They thought I would die, the burns were too extensive. They shot me full of morphine in an attempt to ease my passing."

"But you were stronger than that." She looked up at him, proud amber sparks glittering in a glaze of tears.

He shook his head. "I wanted to die, Evey. If I could have willed my life away I would have."

The elation of his triumph had been short lived. Once in the car the adrenaline which had sustained him through the fire began to fade and shock started to set in. His limbs had begun to quake and he could see his blood, so important to them, begin to trickle through cracks in his charred skin. His breathing had quickened, his heart rate accelerated and he felt light headed and cold. He had known Meredith was talking to him but he could not comprehend her words.

It was not until she pulled into the emergency bay that he realized she had taken him to a hospital. His mind rebelled and his soul screamed. He had had enough of doctors to last several lifetimes, but when he tried to protest, he lacked the energy to make his lips move. His body had become a prison and he could not break free of it.

He remembered being lifted from the car and looking over the shoulder of his rescuer and seeing the skin from his back still clinging to the car seat. It was the last memory he had for several months.

"People give up and die all the time. You never gave up." Evey's hand touched down on his thigh, reminding him she was there.

"When I made it through the night they decided to treat me. I spent a month in a chemically induced coma and the next several months so drugged I hardly remember them."

Evey crawled closer, paused and then climbed into his lap. V let her, finding he needed the comfort of her closeness but feeling guilty for accepting it. She rested against him as if he were cradling her and then drew his arms about herself to complete the illusion. This too he allowed.

"I saw a man the other day in the bakery below my new flat. He was badly burned too but he was not nearly as mobile as you are. All things considered he was in very good shape, but not like you." She said.

"He was probably treated in the traditional way. I was not."

"More experiments?" She asked and he could feel the tremor which ran through her as she spoke.

He squeezed her tighter against his chest. "Before the war, there were scientists in Australia who pioneered a new technique for treating burns. Rather than the traditional grafting, which takes the top layers of skin and transplants them from one area to another, they developed a way to use deep layer skin cells to actually grow new skin."

"How?"

V's discomfort eased as he slipped into teacher mode. "Your skin is always growing. The surface is basically a layer of dead cells. Underneath are several layers of skin cells in various degrees of maturity. By harvesting the bottom most cells and putting them in growth medium they are able to take only a small sample and grow large quantities of cells. Once they have enough and the area to be treated is clean of dead tissue, they essentially spray paint the new cells on. The cells grow and cover the area and as they mature the upper layers form. It dramatically reduces the scarring."

"But this is experimental." There was a growl in her voice.

It was so easy to demonize science. Those adversely affected by it always, shunned it while those helped so often took it for granted. V had been a victim of research and had every right to curse the curiosity leading to his torment, but he shook his head at Evey's anger. "There can be no advancement without experiment, Evey. What the burn centre did was all they could do. I was not a candidate for the traditional method. There was not enough surviving skin to harvest for grafts. It was either experiment or let me die and it is exceedingly difficult for most doctors to do nothing when death is the alternative."

She was quite for a long time. "It must have been terrible."

"I remember very little of it."

She was quite for a long moment. When she spoke again she asked, "Burns kill nerve endings don't they?"

_But that is not the real question now is it, darling Eve,_ V thought. "Can I feel? Yes. Once again, I am different. My burns were deep, but as new skin cells grew, sensation returned."

"It hurt?" She stammered, indicating how rhetorical her question was.

"It did." He confirmed, remembering against his will. There had been pain in the few areas of second degree burns and it had been bad, but as his skin began to repair itself, he experienced a new pain which eclipsed anything he had ever felt before. They had been forced to increase the morphine and he had been reduced to a near vegetative state once more.

"But it doesn't now?" She turned to him and the pity he expected to see was not there. Her expression was thoughtful and concerned but certainly not pitying.

There was strength in her gentle gaze and V drew from it, steadying himself against the past's relentless horrors. There was a wane smile behind the mask when he responded, "Not anymore, no."

She snuggled back into his chest, putting her hands over his arms. For a long time they were quiet, absorbed in their own thoughts.

Finally Evey broke the silence. "You blew up Larkhill to escape?"

"I did not expect to survive." He paused, trying to find the words to explain his first venture into suicide. _Not true. Not suicide_, he told himself. Aloud he said, "I wanted to prevent them from proceeding. They could not be allowed to profit from Valerie's death, from anyone's death. I was the only one left and it was my duty to stop them. Do you understand?"

VEV

Evey felt numb inside, like her heart had turned to ice. She lacked the will to be angry anymore. There wasn't enough energy left for tears. All she had were questions. Each one forced him to relive a nightmare. His past was nothing but nightmares. It was little wonder he hardly slept. She felt sure she would never sleep peacefully again.

_No wonder he is a little crazy. If I were him I would never want to spend a single moment in reality. I'd in locked away in a sanitarium for sure. He's not that crazy, relatively sane most of the time actually, but we are due for a visit to the rubber room soon,_ she thought. Last time he had been obsessing on a pattern. The diary also mentioned a pattern, one Diane was fascinated by until it exploded. Thinking out loud Evey asked, "Was the design you drew on the floor in your cell the same one I saw?"

"Yes."

"What does it mean, V?" She asked, knowing she was skirting the edge of his madness, but unable to overcome her curiosity.

He sighed and his arms slackened their grip around her. "I don't know. I always feel as if I can almost reach out and grasp it, I strive for it, obsess on it, drive myself mad with it and then when I am too exhausted to continue it fades away."

"She said you lost your memory. Was that true?" Evey asked, unable to stop the question before it exited her lips. She did not want to torment him, but she had to know.

"Yes."

"So maybe it's something you want to remember." _Stop this. You have to stop asking questions_, she scolded herself, _but he wants to do this. He needs to get it over with. He said so._

He shrugged, seeming nonchalant. "It is as good a guess as any."

_You see? He wants to do this. Get it over with, ask everything. He'll tell you when he's had enough. _Trying to imagine what it would be like to wake up one morning and not know who she was or where she was or why she was there, Evey asked, "You really don't remember _anything_ from before Larkhill?"

"It's not that simple. I remembered how to tie a shoelace and I remembered my Latin. I remembered Shakespeare. I remembered how to do things but I could not remember why I knew or where I learned. I still cannot." His voice was unreadable.

"When I asked for your birthday, I was asking for a whole lot more."

"It was a simple question. How were you to know the answer was so complicated?" He replied, shifting behind her.

"I'm sorry." Evey replied, wishing she had been happy in her ignorance. She did not want to know what she now did.

V was quiet, holding her against himself, the hand on her arm rubbing back and forth rhythmically. He was clearly lost in thought. She wondered what he was thinking about. Though she now knew more about him than she ever had, his thoughts remained a mystery.

_You know yourself better too. You know where you come from and finally you know why._ It would take a while to work through again. She thought she had come to terms with the loss of her family, but now everything was different. Her thoughts returned to the beginning of the end. "You were in the hospital when St. Mary's hit, right?"

"Yes."

"My brother was in hospital the same time as you then." They might have been in the same hospital too. The beginning of the end and the start of a new beginning might have existed together in the same building.

"He was. There were so many. I thought I…" His voice choked off Evey thought she could feel him drawing in the energy to continue. "I failed and once again I watched all those around me die. It was history repeating itself."

"Until the miracle cure." Evey snarled, remembering how it was announced only days after her brother died. "Those bastards."

"Two weeks after the outbreak, after thousands had died, Norsefire pushed through a bill in Parliament to forgo the normal testing period and bring a new drug to market. Everyone was terrified and clamoring for help so the bill passed and Norsefire was the hero of the hour. Then they found the perpetrators, two Muslims with no money, no scientific training and no ties to militancy. Torture forced confessions from them, fear convicted them and lust for revenge executed them." The muscles under her stiffened and his voice was eerily cold.

"Norsefire released St. Mary's here so we would be afraid enough to bend the rules for them. It was all a means to power."

"Yes."

"So you fought back." Evey said, trying to rein in her anger before she went searching for her mobile which she noticed was strangely missing.

"There are no coincidences. I fought because I was meant to."

"My parents fought back, too." _Is that pride or bitterness in your voice_, she asked herself.

V perceived it as bitterness, chiding, "They did. Your parents were smart people. They might not have known exactly what was happening, but they knew it was wrong."

"I always thought they were selfish. My mum wanted to leave when it was starting to get bad, she wanted to flee to France but dad refused to go. If dad had listened to her, they would have made it." _And I would still have a family_, she continued silently.

"What they did was profoundly brave."

"And stupid." _I am definitely bitter. I wish I could be as proud of them as V is. I wish I could be as proud of them as I am of him._

"Could you have stood idly by watching your world torn apart and do nothing? Could you willingly allow your one remaining child, your precious daughter, to grow up under the fist of oppression and live with yourself? There are many ways to die, Evey. Your parents' death was honorable." His icy chill was now directed at her making her skin crawl.

"I know." Evey relied, wanted to believe on more than an intellectual level. Her continuing anger was not helping either. "I just wish none of this had happened."

His voice softened a degree. "As do I, but we can only right the wrongs, we cannot undo them."

_He has a point_, Evey thought. She was in the perfect position to eradicate the remnants of Norsefire. She could destroy them. "We will set things right. Those bastards will pay for what they've done."

"You refer to Dascombe, Ethridge, Heyer and…"

She cut him off, irritated by his reasonable tone. "You're damn right I do. To hell with…"

"Then I suppose you will also be executing me and Finch as well." V said calmly.

Evey's internal ranting stuttered to a halt. She had already decided it was not V's fault, but, "What does Finch have to do with it?"

V answered in his teacher tone of voice. "He was already a party member when Larkhill took place. He holds a position of power within the Norsefire government and has for a very long time. He was once friends with the Chancellor."

Evey considered this and eventually identified the hole in V's accusation. "He didn't know. You would never have let him live if he did."

"So he must not have known. Using the same logic, would it stand to reason the others were ignorant as well?"

She did not realize her hands were balled into fists until V's hands touched down on hers and drew her fingers out. _I am so angry! Someone has to pay! What don't you get about that_, she wanted to yell at him.

He read her mind. "I know you want revenge, Evey. The only one left to blame is me."

"It wasn't your fault." She said automatically.

He nodded but she wasn't sure if he was agreeing with her or if she was simply heading in the direction he wanted. "The only way to have the vengeance you desire is to restore what was destroyed."

He was right, she could stomp them into the ground, rid the earth of their vile policies and then, "Wipe them from the history books."

He quickly scolded, "No. You must not. Too soon people forget the evils of the past. We can never forget Norsefire. We must always remember what happens when we allow fear to cloud our reason."

"I know. I know. I'm just so angry." Evey grumbled aware she sounded like a petulant child and somehow unable to care.

"I understand."

Instantly her head snapped up. "I hate it when you say that."

"Why?"

"Because whenever you say it, you don't understand at all." Evey felt tired. She did not want to repeat the argument. She didn't have the energy for it. "To me it means you've assumed I hate you or I'm leaving you or something. Is that what you're thinking?"

"No. I meant you have a right to be angry." He replied, his voice empty and unreadable.

"Oh."

V shifted under her again and asked, "Perhaps you would like some breakfast?"

"Is it morning?" Evey asked climbing out of V's lap and using his shoulder to push herself to her feet. Every muscle felt stiff, her back was sore and her hands hurt. How had she not noticed before now?

"It is. Shall I cook for you?" He ascended to his feet easily as if there were no aches and pains to slow him down. The super human illusion lasted until he bent backwards and Evey heard the popping of several vertebrae returning to their correct locations in his spine.

Evey looked down at herself, finding her red dress rumpled and dirty. She felt sure she looked as bad from the neck up as she did from the chest down.

_I need to think about something else for a while._ Her eyes moved around the room and took in all the decorations. _It's Christmas soon_, she thought and then remembered something. "I left stuff out in the tunnels last night. I need to go get it."

"I'll see to it." V said as he moved off toward the kitchen. "Perhaps a shower and something to eat?"

_He's had enough. I need to let him rest and get his mind on something else. My mind needs to be on something else, too._ "Okay. I'll be back in a jif."

VEV

The shower felt good, the water taking with it some of her turmoil. Her parents died almost fifteen years ago, her brother a year before. She had grieved them much of that time and had wasted many hours wondering what her life would be like if he had never gotten sick, if they had not joined the resistance. What kind of life would she have had?

The only thing she could know for certain was she would never have met V.

She stayed under the spray until the water turned cold. _Some jiffy_, she thought as she grabbed a towel and dried off.

Wiping the condensation from the mirror, Evey stared at her reflection. Her eyes were puffy and red. Her face seemed swollen and a little gray. She had cracked the skin on the heels of both hands. Fortunately she knew where the first aid kit was. A couple elastic bandages and her hands were taken care of.

Returning to her face in the mirror Evey realized it was hopeless. She looked like she had been crying all night because she had. There was nothing she could do about it except try to go several hours without any more waterworks. _Fat chance._

Having started down the path she continued to nitpick her appearance. She looked for blemishes but found only the tiny v shaped scar Dominic had left on her forehead.

It was just a scar, small and relatively invisible but it was also symbolic. Fate had marked her destiny on her face where she would be reminded of it daily. It was the most beautiful coincidence.

V would enjoy hearing about it. No doubt he had already thought of it, but if ever there was a time to show him she loved him, this was it. _Do I still love him?_ She paused, considering all the new information she had. Thoughts of V stilled the swirling tempest of her grief. He was the calm eye in the center of a hurricane. She loved him still, perhaps even more than before.

When she stepped out of the loo Evey was greeted by the slow, sonorous melody of a classical piece she recognized but could not name. V was in the kitchen, though it looked like he had only recently gotten there. He had changed clothes too. Rather than one of his beautiful suits he wore a bodysuit with a set of black drawstring trousers. Were it not for the mask and wig he would have looked like an athlete in loungewear.

He paused when he heard her but didn't turn to face her. Perhaps he feared what a little time alone might have done to her mood.

Evey stepped into the kitchen effectively cornering him in the small U shaped space. There was nowhere for him to go when she moved up behind him and slipped her hands around his waist. V stiffened and then relaxed, but it happened so fast Evey wondered if she imagined it. Resting her face in the valley of his spine she asked, "What are you making?"

"Crepes." He replied as the muscles of his back worked and the sizzle in the pan told her he had just flipped one.

"They smell fantastic." She complimented.

He snorted. "That would be the raspberry reduction."

He seemed okay. He also seemed to not want to talk yet. Neither did she. Wanting to pretend it was just another morning, Evey tried to act like she usually would when he was sarcastic. "Whatever. I'm starving."

"While you wait, mademoiselle." He held up a fluted crystal glass.

To take it she had to let go of him with one arm. "What's this?"

"Mimosa."

"Which is?" Keeping a hand on his back Evey released her grip around his waist and took a sip. It was wonderful.

"Orange juice and champagne."

_I love champagne_, she thought as she took another sip. V had never given her alcohol before. "So we've started drinking have we?"

He looked at her over his shoulder, "If you don't want it…"

"No, it's good. I like it." She smiled, wondering what he was thinking and how much effort it was taking for him to sound unaffected.

He turned around holding a plate mounded with crepes stuffed with fruit. "Very well. Your breakfast is served."

"Thank you, V. I missed this." She sat at the table as was custom and waited as he put her plate in front of her.

He sat at the opposite end and though he was perfectly still she could feel the anxiety wafting off of him. Trying to maintain the normalcy he seemed to want, Evey ate, but found it hard to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"Will you excuse me?" V asked suddenly, jumping to his feet as if a bee had stung him.

_Thus the façade cracks. Let it go or tackle it head on? Better to probe a little. _"Are you coming back?"

"Yes, Evey. I will return." He said as he walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

_He voluntarily touched me. He is reassuring me. God I do love this man._ In an effort to master her emotions, Evey put her hand over his and squeezed. "Then I will be here when you get back."

VEV

* * *

**In case anyone was wondering I saw the burn treatment outlined here on "Medical Increadible" on Discovery Health. I wont get 18 out until the end of October since I have two tests a week until then. Odds are I will finish over the Christmas holiday. Thanks for reading! Cheers, Free**


	18. Chapter 18

**So, I lied. I SHOULD be studying, but I have so many ideas for this story floating about in my head, I have to write them down or lose them as all you writers must understand. Thus, in lieu of study, I give you chapter 18 at a pace much swifter than anticipated.**

* * *

V had not returned, the lift was broken, her phone was missing and the diary was sitting accusingly on the coffee table staring at her. Evey wanted to burn it, but that would destroy the words. The memories were seared into her. They would never leave. 

Cocooned like a babe in swaddling clothes Evey sat on the couch trying hard not to think at all, but finding it impossible. Before meeting V she had been able to turn off her mind when she wanted to. It had been easy to deny the obvious and avoid the painful and the frightening. Now all she could do was think and if she wasn't moping in the past she was cowering before an uncertain future.

_You just need to relax. It was a long time ago. All of this was a long time ago. Let it go_, she told herself wondering how much of V's hesitance had been fear of reliving a painful past and how much of it had been a desire to protect her. She had thought his past would be a lot like hers, worse of course, but not much different. Some losses suffered, some time in a prison, a fire at some point and a retreat from society. She figured there would be some happy moments from his childhood that he clung to in the same way she did.

It was so much worse than she imagined. He didn't even have a childhood. V had never had an innocent moment. All he had cruelty, fire, and pain. No wonder he shielded himself behind layers of clothes and a fortress of knowledge. He lived beneath and apart from the world because he had no connection to it. He lived a life without hope.

_Not true_, she shook her head. He had hope, lots of it, just none for himself.

Suddenly unable to sit still anymore Evey climbed out of her cocoon on the couch and started to pace.

He had survived on purpose. His life was a mission. Perhaps he thought death would be his reward, but in the end when his reward was within reach he had refused it. She had watched him fight for his life. He lived for her.

She remembered being told there was no greater love than sacrificing your life for a loved one. What about living? The choice V made was single bravest thing she had ever heard of. Who risked so much for a chance at happiness? How could she possibly live up to a love like that?

"I need something to do," she said to herself feeling the weight of responsibility starting to drag her down.

Christmas. It was Christmas soon. It didn't have to be a terrible time of year anymore. She and V could remake it. It could be happy again or at least it gave her something else to think about for a while.

She surveyed the room. All the hard parts were done. V had gotten the tree up, hung the garland, and strung all the lights. _He did this to not think about what was coming. He wanted to hide in a project and he found one that would soften the blow for me. Always thinking, that man._

He hadn't finished and she wondered if it was on purpose. He was smart enough and thoughtful enough to leave her with a project too. The thought made her smile.

She walked over to the neat pile of boxes, spread them out on the floor, and started opening them. She wondered if he got any mistletoe. Did not appear to have done. _One Christmas tradition he has to experience_, thought Evey. _We need to get some._

VEV

V watched Evey work from a shadow in the hallway. She was high on a ladder putting ornaments on the uppermost branches of his over-tall tree.

He half expected her to have left. He would happily crawl out of his own skin if it meant he could escape the past and its repercussions, but she was standing atop a ladder hanging ornaments while singing Jingle Bells badly. It was as though nothing had changed.

"I can feel you watching me other there. I am on to your tricks." She said as she hung a beautiful blown glass ornament.

"Then I shall have to learn new ones." V smiled behind the mask and took a step into the room.

Evey chuckled as she shook her head. "You have a diabolical need to keep me guessing don't you?"

_You will not be guessing much longer_, he silently replied.

Evey slapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like it sounded. It was meant as a joke. Some sense of humor I have, right?"

"I enjoy your sense of humor." V responded as soon as his voice would cooperate. Seeing her react as she did, V felt he was catching a glimpse of a future were Evey tiptoed around him.

"Where have you been?" She asked as she climbed down the ladder.

"I'm sorry to have been gone so long."

"It's okay." She said automatically, clearly not wanting to upset him. She leapt off the last rung of the ladder and looked as if she were about to fly into his arms but thought better of it. Looking awkward and sheepish she asked, "Did you find a good diversion?"

_I don't want this_, V thought. _This is why I did not want to tell you. One of the reasons at least. I am not made of glass. I do not need to be handled like a delicate keepsake. How do I change this?_

"There is no such thing as a diversion is there?" Evey cut into his thoughts as she stepped toward him slowly.

He knew she was giving him the space to back away. _How do I change this?_ It would be difficult for a while. Maybe it would always be difficult. This was new ground for both of them, but, "A man can accustom himself to nearly anything given enough time."

Evey reached for his hand and when he took hold of hers she closed the gap and hugged him. Leaning against him she asked, "So this is just how it is, all the time inside your head?"

V's free hand made its way into her short hair and he wished he wasn't wearing gloves. "Where would I escape, Evey?"

She pushed back and looked up at him. Her brown eyes were serious as she offered, "You could escape in me."

V shook his head. "A lovely thought, but you can be responsible for no ones happiness but your own. To take on the burden of mine would destroy yours."

She searched his face, the impregnable mask, as if there was something she had missed. Soon she would know what lurked behind the façade. V's stomach flip-flopped and he had to work hard to suppress a reflexive jerk backwards as her hand reached up and touched an apple red cheek.

"I kind of think it is a fair trade. I found strength in you. You can find some joy in me."

"I have, Evey." V replied, taking her hand away from the mask, not yet ready to give up the safety of its camouflage. He put his arms around her and held her tightly for a long moment as he tried to control his emotions. It proved too much and he had to step back.

In the space of a few feet he was able to reclaim his grip on himself and was humiliated by his weakness. He wanted to run again to find his center in the solitude he had adjusted to long ago, but she was so close. Everything he wanted was so close. He risked a glance at her. She wasn't looking at him. Instead her attention was turned toward the tree.

With her back still turned she said, "We're going to be okay, V."

It was too much. _Run. Get out. _For a moment the walls closed in and his adrenaline kicked up to fight or flight, but then she turned and faced him.

"We will get through this. It will be okay. I promise."

Confidence seemed to waft off her like perfume. She was so certain, so strong. V took a deep breath and focused on his heart rhythm willing it to slow. _Contain the pain. Hold it, force it down, save it for later. I don't want to save it anymore. What use does it serve now? Let it go. How? _

"V, I can't reach to put the topper on. Would you help me?"

As it always had, his mind quieted with purpose. Looking at the tree he nodded, "I would be happy to."

VEV

They finished the decorating quickly. There was not much left to do. The second they were done Evey could feel him spinning off again so she asked him to cook leaving him alone knowing he would eat while he cooked if she wasn't there to see him do it. He was always at his best when he had something to do. She needed to come up with more things to keep him occupied until he was more comfortable.

"Your supper, madam." He said as he held a plate in front of her. When she took it he sat beside her.

"You want to watch a movie? I have "A Christmas Carol"." Evey had fond memories of watching it with her brother as a child and had found it in a car boot sale. She had also picked up a copy of "It's a Wonderful Life" and "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas".

"Which version?" V asked, sounding interested.

"Mickey Mouse." Evey had not seen any of the other versions. She'd never even read the book.

He leaned back into the couch seat making himself comfortable. "I've not seen it."

Evey only half paid attention to the film as she ate. She had loved it as a child, but thinking back on those days when she and her brother watched it together she found her eyes begin to well up. She blinked hard and then glanced at V. He had no childhood memories. She could not even picture him as a child and wondered what it had been like. He had to have seen the film before. There wasn't a child in western civilization who had not. She wondered if he would remember them the same way he remembered how to tie his shoes. She hoped he did. As the closing credits rolled Evey asked, "Did you like it?"

"I have always loved the book. I find it necessary to remind myself from time to time." V replied as he turned off the television.

"Of what?"

He put the remote down on the coffee table as he said, "Not to allow bitterness to govern me, to remember we can all rise above selfish instinct and use what we have been given for the betterment of others."

He saw the story as a cautionary tale. Evey did not and pointed out the difference. "So Scrooge is your guide. Tiny Tim is mine."

"Really, why?"

She had resisted throughout the film, but the urge to lean against him was strong. He had sat far away informing her he did not want to be touched and she had obliged him. Looking at him, seated so near and yet so far, she decided he had had enough space and laid down on the sofa with her head in his lap. He shifted under her but only to achieve a more comfortable position. Smiling Evey tried to remember the topic of conversation.

They were talking about Tiny Tim. Picking up where she had left off, Evey answered. "Because his circumstances were terrible, but his attitude was always positive and in the end it worked out for him."

A gloved hand began to massage the back of her skull. "The perspectives vary but the lesson is the same. Do you think you are like Tiny Tim?"

"I try to be." Evey replied wishing for once V would take off his gloves and touch her with his bare hands.

"Ah. And I try not to be Scrooge. Perhaps you have made the wiser choice in role models."

A thoughtful silence descended between them. V continued to rub her scalp, the motion of his hands bringing back memories from times long past. She would lounge in her mother's lap and let her brush her hair. Those were the last serene moments of her life. Sadness made her feel heavy and tears began to well again.

_You will not cry. Stop it. You have cried enough to last several lifetimes. Suck it up and move on. You are loved again. Better, you are cherished_, she reminded herself, trying with all her might to let go of the past and embrace the future. She had mourned enough. _Let them go, Evey._

Finding letting go easier said than done, she said, "I brought some other films. Do you want to watch another?"

V sighed. "No, Evey. I thank you for the interlude, but we are not quite finished."

"Oh Jesus V, there's more?" Evey complained, wondering where the delay between thought and speech had gone. Every thought in her head seemed to pop out her mouth without any filtering.

V shifted under her again and his hand stopped its gentle massage. Turning a little Evey could see it resting on the sofa arm and felt sure under its black leather façade his knuckles were white. "You have spent the day alone with your thoughts. Perhaps you have questions?"

"Now?" It seemed only moments ago he had been on the verge of emotional collapse and unwilling to deal in the past anymore.

"There is no time like the present, my dear."

There was nothing Evey wanted to do less than dredge up anymore ugliness. Her heart could not take it. "I really don't…"

"Evey, please." He paused and the muscles under her head tensed.

_He is trying so hard. Pull it together, Evey. _She could not. Despair engulfed her like a chill fog. _You cannot undo the past, but you can look to the future, God damn it. Grow up!_

A hand touched down on her shoulder in a gentle attempt to comfort her. _He's comforting you. Do you have any idea how pathetic this is? Selfish idiot. Is this really all you're made of? Nothing but fluff and fair weather. God, you do not deserve to be loved by a man like this. Grow the fuck up! Now!_

As she tried to gather herself, V tried again, "This is difficult, I know, but…"

"What happened to the bitch that did this?" The words tumbled out of her mouth as she sat up and turned around to face him.

"She died."

_Duh, V._ "Yes, I assumed as much."

VEV

He understood her anger, but knew if left unchecked, it would consume her and change her into someone neither of them would recognize. Their starting point was the same, but their paths had to be different. Where he had torn down, she had to build. How to make her see this?

The beginning was always a good place to start. "I hated her once too, but before my vendetta was complete my life was changed and with it my perspective. I became aware of how consumed by a goal a person can become."

"You're nothing like _her_." Evey snarled.

V shifted in his seat to better face her. She had to understand the point he was about to make. "That is a matter of perspective. I had you to remind me the path is as important as the destination. Delia was not so fortunate. She thought she followed in the footsteps of Oppenheimer who said, 'There must be no barriers for freedom of inquiry. There is no place for dogma in science. The scientist is free, and must be free to ask any question, to doubt any assertion, to seek for any evidence, and to correct any errors.' Oppenheimer was not advocating the liberties she took, but surely you can see how such an argument could be twisted to justify her research."

Evey was staring at her hands and picking at her cuticles, clearly unwilling to entertain his line of reasoning.

V pressed on, "She became the Mengele of our age without realizing it. Her fate was sealed the day she decided some humans were not people. Like Oppenheimer, it was only after her work was concluded and used by the organization that sponsored it she realized what she had done. Both thought they created the ultimate weapon which, through fear of global destruction, would effectively rid the planet of war. When St. Mary's was released she finally saw how she had been used. That realization destroyed Diane Stanton and gave birth to Delia Surridge."

Evey raised her head and glared at him. "The bitch changed her name so she could pretend she was someone else? Pretend she didn't do what she did?"

V chose his words carefully, watching Evey's eyes for any hint of misunderstanding. "Unlike the others who shamelessly profited from Larkhill, Delia took her sins to heart. She never again set foot in a lab or worked with a living subject. She became a pathologist and spent the rest of her life as an advocate for the dead. She owned shares in Viadoxic, the company which gave us the cure, but never touched a single cent. She didn't have friends, rarely saw her family and lived in isolation. Justice demanded her blood, for me, for Valerie, for the others victimized by her work, but in many ways she was already dead."

Silence descended as V waited for her to engage him. She needed the chance to process what he had said without interference. The conclusion she came to might be manipulated by his choice of words, but it had to feel like her own.

The cuticle on her left thumb began to bleed. She watched it for a while and then began picking at it again, increasing the size of the wound. V wondered if he should stop her. Just as he decided to reach for her hands her head popped up and she asked, "Who are Oppenheimer and Mengele?"

"Oppenheimer headed the team that developed the atom bomb at the end of World War II. Mengele was a Nazi doctor at Auschwitz. He did a wide range of gruesome experiments on prisoners there during his tenure." V responded wishing that young people were taught more history. Why did no one see how vital such study was? His mind chased the tangential thought for a time while Evey sucked on her bleeding thumb.

Finally she asked, "V, where do you suppose they got St. Mary's from anyway?"

He had wondered the same thing. "Perhaps it was like AIDs or Ebola and lurked in a forest somewhere until deforestation gave it freedom. Perhaps they developed it in a lab. We will never know."

There was another pause in the conversation. V watched her, noting the changes in her posture and countenance as her mood slowly changed.

When she looked at him again her eyes were clearer. She was thinking more logically. "You said you hated her at first. Does that mean you don't hate her now?"

They were heading in the right direction now. He chose his words carefully not wanted to derail her thought progress, "I hate what she did. She had somehow convinced herself what she was doing would be to the benefit of mankind. Her subjects were simply collateral damage. We were the unfortunate few whose sacrifice would change the world."

"So she was delusional." The words were angry but her tone was thoughtful.

V shook his head. "She believed so deeply in her cause nothing else mattered. Sound familiar?"

She paused to consider and then turned a wan smile on him. "But you had me."

_There you go_, he thought, pleased by the progress they were making. "Yes, Evey. I had you."

"I still hate her. I hate all of them. I will always hate them."

"If you try to conserve your rage, you will be eaten alive by it, but if you can direct it, you can use it and when it is finally exhausted, perhaps you will be able to look back on something you can be proud of." V told Evey what he had often had to tell himself.

"I understand." She nodded.

"You usually do." V replied, making a show of yawning. He was tired but there was one final hurdle to leap before the past could be returned to its proper place.

She picked up on it. "You tired?"

"How can you tell?"

"I might not be able to see you yawning, but I can hear it. There is only so much you can hide back there, you know." She teased.

"This is true." V agreed. It was time.

She stood and held out a hand to him, "I'm ready for bed. You coming?"

VEV

Evey wasn't sure if he would join her in bed or not. He rose when she did but did not immediately follow. After a pit stop in the loo, she saw the lights were off in the living areas. Turning her attention down the hall to V's room she could see the dim glow of candlelight through the half open door and in a flash she knew what he was going to do.

She hesitated, unsure of herself.

_He is going to show me his body_, she thought. _He is going to literally strip himself naked and expect me to… _

Shit.

_I really need to stop cursing. I'm starting to sound like a sailor and I've never even been on a boat_, she scolded herself, still staring pensively at his bedroom door.

_You have already seen him naked. What's the big deal?_

It wasn't really about her seeing though. He knew she had seen. It was about him seeing her looking at him. V had told her before how expressive her eyes were. He said it was one of the things he loved about her. She was an open book to him and it was her eyes he read. Whatever she thought when she looked at him, he would know it instantly.

She was glad she had spent so much time researching burns and that she had already seen him once. All he would see what love…she hoped.

With each step she took toward the door her trepidations grew. She had seen events unfolding more slowly. She figured he would want to take his time, a little at a time. It had not occurred to her that he really would try to get it all over with at once. Maybe he thought she expected it this.

At the door she knocked at the same time she said, "You don't have to do this. I didn't realize what I was really asking. I wasn't expecting things to go this fast and I feel terrible for doing this to you."

"You've done nothing to me, Evey. You pointed out a flaw in my reasoning, something you seem to be quite good at, and I understand I risk more in silence than I do in trust." His voice was muffled coming through the thick wooden door.

"I love you." She said, feeling like chicken little as she did so. _Suck it up! Say the words all you want, he won't believe it until he sees it. Go show him!_

VEV

V breathed in deep, expanding his lungs until he felt like his chest would burst from the strain and held it for a second. Then he released, pushing hard bending over with the effort to clear all the air from his body. He repeated the action several times knowing that with each forced exhalation he reclaimed more of the inner serenity needed to do what he was about to do.

"Come in please." V said, wishing she had taken a little longer in the loo.

He was in front of a full length mirror, one that he almost never looked in unless fully dressed to make sure nothing was amiss with his clothes before headed to the surface.

The door's ancient hinges creaked as it opened and he could see her reflected in the mirror behind him. The expression on her face was not what he expected. The worst case scenario was as the layers came off she would be unable to look at him, the hideous ruin of his flesh too much for her to see. The best case, as V saw it, was she would be curious. Curiosity would indicate an open mind that with time might be able to see past the damage. But the look on her face was neither. Instead he saw…lust?

Surprised, V let his gaze move away from her to his image in the mirror. He tried to see what she was seeing. He was encased in a black body suit, his second skin. She had seen it before. In the candlelight the soft sheen of the fabric picked up the light and the barely covered layers of muscle below were clearly outlined. He looked at her face again. Her eyes were wandering over him now, appreciative.

A new wave of self consciousness washed over him and he fought the urge to cover himself only half succeeding in controlling his arms as one of them refused to stay at his side and battled his will awkwardly across his stomach.

Unable to stand the silence anymore, he said, "After the fire I spent two years wearing pressure garments for all but an hour a day. Burn scars contract as they mature and they were not certain how my new skin would heal." He sighed, remembering. "I never saw the man that existed before the fire. Instead garments like this one became my skin and I learned to see myself as a creature of smoke and shadow. Old habits die hard, and I continue to view this as my skin though I know it is not."

She said nothing and remained in the doorway. Bad signs in his mind but her gentle, interested expression had not changed.

He waited for a few seconds, wondering if she would say something or not. When it became clear she would not he lost control of his arms and they folded over his chest and his shoulders hunched forward as if collapsing in on themselves. He tried another deep breath to regain control and, finding he still had some, continued telling her what he felt he had to in order to prepare her for what he would soon reveal.

"Of course, beneath this there is tissue that holds all the visceral bits in and bacteria out, but beyond serving this purpose it cannot be called skin."

She still said nothing but she moved up behind him, stopping near him but not touching. She was watching him in the mirror with love reflecting in her eyes.

That could change.

He continued, clinically explaining the damage she would soon witness. "I have third degree burns over ninety percent of my body. The rest was largely subjected to second degree burns. That I walk, talk, see, hear, taste, feel or retain all the various extremities that most burn patients lose are anomalies. I have vastly exceeded the expectations of those that cared for me. If I owe my survival to a preexisting genetic mutation or to Delia's experimentation, I don't know. I know simply I should not be as I am."

As he was speaking she came closer and he watched in the mirror as a hand reached out for him slowly, projecting her intention and giving him time to move away from the coming contact if he wanted to. V forced himself to stay still but could not control the flinch that accompanied the warm pressure of her palm on his back.

Her expression changed as her face disappeared behind his back. There as sadness in her eyes. But not pity, not yet.

Her voice came softly from behind him as she said, "I can't imagine the pain you've suffered."

Her hand moved up from the center of his back to his shoulder. There was power in her grip as if she were silently telling him that she would give him strength as he needed it.

"The world is full of suffering; it is also full of over coming it." 19 He said as he uncrossed his arms and laid a hand over hers stopping its drift down his arm.

"That's it then? Always a positive attitude?"

Her fingers curled around his and began to gently massage his gloved hand. She had done that before on several occasions while they watched a film back in the early days when she was afraid and he was not. How the tables had turned.

He shrugged. "Clearly not. I have a room in my home dedicated to rage. However, I try to remember we are not simply constructs of genetics and environment. It is our attitude that defines us, as the film tonight reminded us. Some days I am more successful than others."

Evey stepped back from him and pulled on his hand, trying to lead him away from the mirror. "Come to bed."

V was willing to do almost anything to avoid what was to come, but he had started. He would finish though he preferred to rest in her arms where there were no nightmares, no spinning thoughts, no worries, just the soft scent and delicate weight of her body anchoring him to the present and lulling him to slumber. If he continued he might never experience it. If he stopped he would not deserve to. "We are not finished here."

Clearly she wanted to argue but she held her tongue. "Okay."

"True realism consists in revealing the surprising things which habit keeps covered and prevents us from seeing. 20 Excuse me a moment." He said, the mask dipping down to her ear and brushing the side of her face as he stepped past her to the bath.

Stripping out of the body suit was a much like removing a wetsuit only more difficult and less graceful. Though he intended to walk out naked and get the entire thing over with in one shot, he had also hedged his bets by bringing a long dressing gown and other concealment options into the bath.

The robe was tempting. Extremely tempting.

_Be quick about it_, he chided himself. _Get this over with already_.

He reached for the door handle but could not bring himself to pull it open.

Instead he caught his own eye in the over sink mirror and turned away reflexively. He had spent too much time communing with mirrors of late. He knew what he would see, knew it was not pretty and hated he was about to show it to Evey, but he had told himself if she made it past his history he would show her his present.

Guy Fawkes was still the face he presented to the world and would present to Evey for now, likely forever since he doubted he would be able to take it off. He wanted to believe she would get past the ugly surface and remember what she liked underneath it, but could not be certain.

He shook his head. She had already seen. The surprise was his alone. He tried to look at himself objectively, like a doctor looking over a patient.

He had healed well given the circumstances. The scarring was worst on his back where he had taken the brunt of the explosive gases. He reached a hand around his torso and touched the thickened skin along his spine. Rough and smooth, like a river rock only partially worn down by the water running over it.

His hand pulled back around his waist over his belly where the scarring was less and the texture not as jarringly abnormal. He let his eyes travel further south, to areas hardly scarred at all. He remembered those burns, second degree and horrifically painful. Miraculously functional, like all the other appendages the fire failed to claim. Evey had seen this too.

He would not surprise her. He would not shock her. She had seen before and she had stayed. It would be okay.

VEV

19 Helen Keller

20 Jean Cocteau

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**An evil place to leave off, I know. I have most of 19 ready to go, but parts are not cooperating yet. Thanks again for reading and reviewing and putting up with my very, very slow posting. Cheers, Free**


	19. Chapter 19

**This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature. I tried to remain tasteful and within the bounds of the rating system, but there are those among you (you know who you are) who should probably skip this chapter anyway. Thanks to Bellmont Bellamy for convincing me to put the sex scene back in.**

* * *

Evey waited for what felt like an eternity. Standing in front of the mirror she let her dressing gown slip from her shoulders. _God I'm thin._ There was almost no meat on her bones anymore. In the dim light of the candle, her clothes hung on her like sacks, every rib could be seen poking through the skin of her chest, her cheeks appeared hollow, and her arms looked skeletal. _I've wasted away._

Any hope of confidence was crushed leaving her feeling nauseated at her appearance and uncomfortable in her own skin. Her arms closed around her waist, hiding her concave stomach and protruding hipbones.

"You look beautiful. I meant to tell you earlier."

"I look like I just escaped a concentration camp." Evey replied to the shadow lurking in the doorway of the bathroom. As soon as the words escaped her lips she wanted to take them back.

The shadow said, "I enjoy cooking for you."

Evey took a split second to figure out whether or not to be offended by what he said. Deciding there were worse things than being too thin, she forced her arms down to her sides and turned to face V. Tonight was not about her body image, it was about his. "You don't have to do this."

"A moment's courage and it is done," 21 V said as he stepped into the mild candlelight.

Evey kept her eyes down, waiting for him to stop where he would. When V stopped just slightly out of reach in front of her Evey let her gaze move up from his feet. The first thing to struck her as she examined his feet and ankles was that it wasn't as bad as she remembered nor as bad as she feared. The scarring and discoloration on his hands and forearms was far more severe than everywhere else. He had scarring over more surface area than anyone she had seen in her research, but the texture was different. _Finally an experiment working in his favor_, she thought.

Evey's eyes meandered their way up to his thighs where the scarring was less, over his groin, to his stomach, and up to his chest where the first amputations greeted her. He had no nipples. She had not noticed before. So much had gone unnoticed. She had looked, but not really seen.

Evey let her eyes continue north to his neck where the black line of a mask beneath Guy Fawkes stopped her perusal. His scars were not that bad and the muscles under them were fantastic. In a most unique way, he really was beautiful.

Her hand extended to toward him, but V stepped back out of her reach. Evey looked up at him drilling her love into the eyeholes of the mask. "Let me touch you."

The mask inclined and V sighed, whether in resignation or relief, she could not be sure. He stepped into her extended fingers allowing them to rest on his midsection. The muscles under her hand were taut and he was holding his breath.

"I'm not being very fair am I?" Evey asked, deciding it was wrong for him to be so exposed while she was not.

Hoping he would see her nudity as an act of solidarity and perhaps also as an invitation she let go of his hand. As she began to pull her shirt up V reached out and stopped her.

"There is no need, Evey, no quid pro quo."

It was the first time he touched her bare handed. He jerked his fingers back as if she had burned him. _You can touch me V_, she silently admonished him knowing if she said it out loud she would make things worse. Instead she continued pulling off her top and as she reached down to push off her pajama bottoms she said, "I didn't think there was."

Standing back up she let her eyes drift up his body again taking in the terrain like a mountain climber looking for the best path to the summit. She noticed his iron control slipping and took only the briefest second to admire his growing erection before deciding she had had enough time spent at a distance. Looking directly into the eyes of Guy Fawkes she moved in close enough to feel the radiant heat of his skin. Slowly and with great deliberation she put her arms around him.

V's breath caught and his arms started an epileptic dance of indecision before they finally circled her. He let out a huge sigh as his chin settled atop her head. Squeezing him tighter and feeling an internal glow of confidence, Evey whispered, "I love you."

"Still?" It sounded like it popped out before he could stop it.

"You are as dense as a stone sometimes." Evey scolded, planting a kiss on his bare chest.

"We are yet to be finished, love."

Evey's kisses moved higher, to his throat. "Is it at least getting easier?"

Brushing the mask against the side of her face as if kissing her back V whispered, "Sadly, no."

Evey stopped kissing him, looking instead for the eyes she could not see behind the mask. The only thing left to discard was Guy Fawkes. As much for herself as for him she said, "Then the quicker the better, don't you think?"

"Some explanation first." V breathed into her hair. "I see you searching for my eyes and I know what you hope to see in them."

Evey's hand ran down the canyon his spine carved through his muscular back. "The eyes are the windows to the soul."

V pulled back, staring down at her making sure she knew to take him seriously. "So it is said, but not in this case, dear Evey. Mine are almost colorless."

_What else did that bitch do to you? I hate her. I would kill her if I could._ _Forget her, this is not about her. It's about him. _It made no difference what his eyes looked like. None whatsoever. V was V. "It can't be that bad."

His hands moved a little down her back resting just below her shoulder blades. "I assure you, it is."

She could feel his gaze on her, so intent but unsure. They probably were pretty weird but she didn't care. She wanted him to take the mask off, show her his face and finally, _finally_ let her love him. "V, do you want to kiss me?"

"Very much." He closed the gap he had created, pulling her tighter against himself.

Gripping Guy Fawkes with both hands she looked V dead in the eye holes. "Take off the mask, V. You don't need it anymore."

V broke away from her, moving toward his dressing table. He hesitated a moment and then pulled off the wig, carefully placing it on its stand. Pausing again, he shook his head as if ridiculing himself and then reached up to untie the straps of the mask. It came away and he set it down face up on the table. He did not take off the black one under Guy Fawkes.

Slowly, like a man gathering the courage to face a firing squad, he turned. There was so little and yet so much to see. The black mask covered all but his lips. Evey could make out the shape of his face and found it pleasing. His mouth had been reconstructed. There was some scaring, but they looked like kissable lips to Evey.

His head fell and she realized she had been staring. The energy in the room changed and she sensed he was about to lose it. Without a thought she flung herself at him. Catching him by surprise, she took his head in her hands and pressed her lips to his. V froze but did not leap away.

It was a start. A good start as far as Evey was concerned. "Just as I thought."

His head cocked sideways and his breath held.

"Very, very kissable." She smiled and tilted her head up hoping he would indulge her desire for another kiss. He would have to bend down to reach her. Evey's heart did back flips when his lips touched hers, tentative and careful but still kissing her.

She deepened the kiss and he allowed it and toward the end seemed to be toying with the idea of becoming the aggressor. When he broke away, Evey breathed, "God, I love those lips."

The kiss seemed to have steadied him a little. His bare hand rose to her cheek and brushed against her skin. The texture was strange but the gesture was one she had longed for.

He watched her a long time and she wondered if he could actually see her thoughts as they passed through her mind. Sometimes she thought he could. Curious she asked, "What is going through that beautiful mind of yours?"

"We are not quite done." V said and for the very first time, Evey watched his mouth move and saw him form the words he used to enchant her.

VEV

V did not know how he knew or who had taught him, but like so many other things his body remembered that his mind did not, V knew how to kiss. It was strange to be experiencing something for the first time while being somewhat practiced at it. It was an experience he had repeated over and over again throughout his life but one he had never gotten used to. He tried to shrug it off and focus his attention on Evey, the incredible little creature who had not yet been phased by his deformity.

The way she looked at him was heart breaking and he could not help dwelling of the fragility of love. He felt like the proverbial bull in a china shop, doomed by clumsiness and an inability to see the value in what he destroyed. He would hurt her. He would not mean to, never mean to, but he would. _Stop it. Accept the gift in front of you. _

Her hand came up to his lips, her fingers tracing over scar tissue as if it were beautiful, dragging him out of the china shop and back to reality. Her eyes were twinkling at him. "I think I could kiss you forever."

Perhaps he had gone far enough. She seemed so happy with him. Removing the last mask wasn't really necessary in a practical sense, he reasoned. Everything she wanted to do with him was possible with the one he was wearing. He could kiss her, dine with her and smile with her from behind it. It was a happy medium between the mystery of Guy Fawkes and the reality of a melted face. He did not have to remove it.

The trouble was the mask, any mask, was a neon sign declaring his lack of faith in her love. It also declared his cowardliness. It had to come off, even if he only managed it once. With a shaking hand V reached behind his head, grabbed the small zipper pull at the base of his skull and tugged it upward, relieving the mild pressure on his face.

When he stole a glance at Evey her eyes were looking on him with such love and acceptance he nearly came apart. _God, please let that look remain after she sees._

V removed the mask with his eyes closed, the cool air on his bare skin utterly terrifying. He could feel her hand rising to his cheek and part of him was absolutely convinced she would slap him. His minds eyes conjured memories of the last hands to touch his face. He vividly remembered being beaten, nurses pealing off layers of dead tissue, being held down for injections, he could not make the memories stop but when her fingertips brushed his cheek they swept away the past. Suddenly all he could feel was her palm on his face and the gentleness with which she caressed him. It seemed so unreal he had to look. She had that kind of power.

When he met her eyes, he saw what he had expected. There was confusion, concern, and fear.

_It must be like meeting the gaze of Lucifer himself_, he thought. It would not have surprised him if she screamed and run away. He did not understand and his head dropped and his heart, already so abused, seemed to stutter in his chest. Evey's hand had not retreated instead moving from his cheek to his chin, tilting his head up forcing him to meet her gaze again.

"Blue, right? Very, very light blue. Ice blue." The kind glow of candlelight had turned everything in the room a warm sepia tone and he knew she was only guessing. He nodded.

For a long moment she made careful study his ruined features and he knew she was trying to see who he had once been. He had spent hours staring into mirrors trying to find the man from Before, but whoever he was, he had been destroyed and rebuilt in the image of the plastic surgeon's muse. "For the longest time the staff at hospital thought I was blind."

"I can see how they made the mistake." Evey's hand raised to his left eye, her thumb brushing over where a brow should be. "How in the world did…where they always…what could cause…you have no idea do you?"

"Maybe I was born like this. Perhaps it was St. Mary's or possibly a side effect of the treatments Delia tried. Maybe an experiment I was not aware of. I don't know." V bowed his head again, hating himself for wishing it could be different.

Her hands took over as the primary mechanism for her explorations of his face, her fingers tracing every inch. He closed his eyes and submitted to the scrutiny. Her hands settled on his cheeks and she brought his head down. Her lips brushed his and she whispered, "I think you're beautiful."

"Evey…" He pulled back. It had been pity which moved the Beauty to love the Beast. _Kisses will not make me a handsome prince. They will not give back what has been taken. There are no happy endings for monsters. _

Evey again positioned their faces so he had no choice but look at her. "Look at me, V. I hate what has happened to you and I admit it's hard to see the evidence of so much pain, but this is love, not pity. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have won the heart of a man like you."

He wanted to believe, needed to believe, but he felt exposed and judged. He argued with himself, there was fear in her gaze, yes, but there was also love and he was focusing on the negative. _Stop doing this._ "Evey…"

She smiled. "I understand why it's hard to believe, trust me, I do. Sometimes I can't see in myself what you seem to see either. You think I don't ever wonder what on earth was going through your mind when you fell in love with me?"

"I don't deserve you." V replied, feeling like a man with his finger in a cracked dam trying to hold back a storm surge.

Evey's smile broadened as she patted his cheek. "No, you probably don't, but even you had to get lucky sometime."

She stretched up and kissed him again, her hands traveling the rough terrain of his lower back. The moment her lips touched his he ceased caring about what her hands felt as they moved over him and it didn't matter that it could never work out. His blood ignited in the sweetest fire, the caress of her hands delicate flames licking at his skin. It was the most delightful torture he could imagine.

Her hands became bolder, moving past the small of his back to the curve of his ass. She pulled him sharply against her and kissing suddenly did not seem like enough. The strength of her grip eased and one of her hands moved around over his hip slipping between them. Not quite breaking the kiss she whispered, "Want to get lucky, V?"

VEV

He did not immediately answer, but he did not resist the descent of her touch. Emboldened, Evey allowed her hand to drift closer. There was no protective rough of hair to mark her location and her fingers made contact faster than she intended.

V immediately broke the kiss and jumped back, one hand protectively covering what she had just touched. He would not look at her.

Evey's hands dropped to her sides and her head slumped along with her shoulders. A sigh escaped her before she could stop it. He would take it as disappointment when it was really self disgust. She had meant to go slower to allow him time to process what was happening. It was important he not feel molested.

"I'm sorry, love." V's voice sounded like a heart breaking.

_Pull it together, Evey. You're the strong one here, God help us. Be bold, explain yourself and see what he does._

"V, I love you and…I want you. I didn't mean…I should have asked. I'm being too pushy and I'm sorry." _Tonight is not the night for this. Give the man a break_, she admonished herself as she tried to shelve the dirty thoughts in her head. They refused to leave.

She knew from body language and the sound of his voice he was barely holding on. He was hurt, afraid and vacillating between belief and despair. It was so strange to know this about him, but see only murder in his icy gaze. When he looked at her she felt a like a fish on a slab with a fillet knife descending toward it.

He must have been able to see her thoughts because he turned away and almost dove for the mask sitting on the dressing table and Evey felt guilty to be grateful. As soon as the black mask was back on and his eyes once again hidden from view, her calm returned.

V looked crest fallen and she knew he was over stretched and about to snap. Every action has an equal and opposing reaction. A hinged door opened wide will slam shut with a great force. Evey had visions of V locking himself up again and another uncomfortable vigil in the hallway. _Not tonight. If you need to do it you can do it tomorrow, V. Tonight you are going to let me love you._

"Come to bed, V." Evey said as she climbed in, pulling the covers up to her chin in an effort to make her intentions seem as companionable as she hoped they would be. "I'll sleep better if you're near me."

V regarded her for a moment with his head cocked sideways. It was the quintessential V pose made surreal because he was not encased in black but revealed flesh and blood, not Guy Fawkes but still a masked man, not interested in sex but still seim-erect. He was a marvel of contradiction.

After what appeared to Evey to be a lot of thought V climbed into bed beside her, his back to her and as close to the edge of the bed as he could get without falling out.

Feeling rejected but knowing he didn't mean it that way, Evey considered again his issues with touch. Since she returned he had been more comfortable with it, initiating it more often than usual and accepting it much more readily. Just as she began to enjoy his new openness, he withdrew. Of course, now he was naked, exposed and extremely self conscious and her errant fingers were not helping. She had to be patient. She had to give him time to adjust and decide what he was willing to do.

She looked over at the apex of his shoulder just poking out from the covers. She wondered what he was thinking, imagining him going back and forth with himself about how far apart they were. He would tell himself she was staying away because he was ugly and then he would tell himself he was the one creating the distance but then he would worry he was simply justifying her behavior.

What to do? If she hung back, he could assume she was repulsed, but if she put her hands on him, tried to love him, he might think she was acting out of pity. _Damned if you do, damned if you don't,_ she sighed to herself. _If it's a problem either way, you should go for it. You know you love him and eventually he will catch on. He's not stupid. _

She decided to close the gap between them and rolled into the dent his greater weight made in the soft bedding. When her body touched his, V shifted as far from her as he could, a distance of only inches.

"Would you rather I leave you alone?" Evey asked as she moved with him, maintaining the contact even though she felt terrible for tormenting him, but she would wait for him to insist before she surrendered.

"No, I...please forgive me for making it seem I abhor your touch." He rolled onto his back and she made room for him adjusting so his arm was around her neck when she lay down with her head on his shoulder. His hand came to rest on her upper arm. Evey could feel the tension in his over tight grip.

"It's new to me too but I like it." Clearly what she was offering was something his body wanted to take. Tented bed sheets attested to his body's mutiny. She raised her lips to just shy of his black clad ear and enticed, "Can I kiss you again?"

The wait was intolerable but eventually his hand slid up from her shoulder to the side of her face and his head turned toward her. His lips claimed hers tentative at first but with growing confidence.

Thoughtlessly Evey wrapped a leg over his hip, inviting, enticing, hoping. For a moment it seemed okay, seemed more right than anything ever had before but then V broke the kiss and whispered, "Not like this."

What man in his right mind refused sex? Her gaze shifted past his masked face to the huge piles of books that lined the wall. V had redefined himself through those books. It occurred to her that perhaps, like a teenaged girl, he had a romanticized view of how their first time should be. Wondering if she was right, she asked, "Then how, V?"

He turned his head away from her.

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Had V ever had a lover? One he could remember? Or were Lilliman and the guard at Larkhill the only ones he remembered? Diane's anger when she found out was the only thing Evey had been able to relate to in the journal. Those pages had been taped in. V had put them back. No secrets then. Not even irrelevant ones. _Oh, V._ _I understand. I wish I didn't but I do._

Out loud she said, "Can you imagine what it's like when it isn't for power or control but instead for love?"

"Pardon?" V body tensed and his head turned back toward her, everything about him the picture of suppressed violence.

"Five years in a Youth Reclamation Centre. What do you think happens in places like that?" Evey revealed with more bitterness than she intended.

V seemed on the verge of saying something when she cut him off not wanting him to control what happened next. It was her history, her life and her ability to choose who would reclaim what had been taken.

"I've always thought of sex as a weapon. It was used against me, but then I learned I could use it too. It was sort of a survival tool I guess. I got used to being used. I kept thinking someone someday would decide he wanted more than a fuck and would take care of me. Pathetic isn't it? Anyway, I thought it just worked that way and if I played along I would be okay. You taught me I don't have to play along. I can rewrite the rule book and that is what I'm doing. Does that make sense?"

V's head was turned toward her. His eyes were covered but his lips were pursed in a hard line. Having zero familiarity with his facial expressions, Evey didn't know what he was thinking and started to panic.

She had never told anyone. A girl she knew from JRC had told a boyfriend what had happened to her and he had turned his back on her calling her a whore. From her friend's experience, Evey had learned never to reveal her secret, but tonight was a night of revelation. V was not the only one with a hidden past. He was not the only one who had to trust and _she_ was not the only one who had to forgive.

"You're the _only_ man I've ever wanted to give myself to." She said in an effort to bolster her case, but as the words passed her lips Evey realized how trite they sounded. Of course she would say something like that. What money grubbing whore didn't?

V's hand gently ran down her cheek as if he were testing for tears. His voice was thoughtful as he said, "I'm in no position to pass judgment, Evey."

"You don't care?" The words felt like hiccups as she tried to stop them. She did not want to sound so desperate for his approval, but there was nothing she wanted more.

His arms tightened around her and his voice was carefully gentle. "Oh no, Evey. I care very much, but it changes nothing about how I feel about you."

Relief flooded her as V once again proved he was in a class by himself. She snuggled in tighter against him feeling safe in his strong embrace. "I never told anyone before."

"Cathartic, is it?" He asked as his lips brushed her hairline.

She laughed, grateful for the change of topic. "Cheeky, V. How's your catharsis going?"

"Rather better than expected, actually."

"I should hope so." She could not keep the pleased tone out of her voice feeling for the first time she knew he understood. He might fight it a while, but for the first time he knew she genuinely loved him.

"V, my heart leads only to you." She said as she curled in even tighter against him, finally abandoning self restraint and succumbing to desire.

"Where the heart leads the loins do not automatically follow." He replied, shifting to give his hips more distance from her leg.

"Oh. Okay. I understand." Evey replied trying to mask her disappointment.

V pulled her tight against him using his voice to soften his words and abate her fears. "Leaping to conclusions does not suit you, love. I mean only that tonight is emotionally charged and thus less than rational. I want no more regrets between us. The ones I already carry are nearly too much to bear."

His regret, her regret, too many regrets to name or dwell upon. Instead Evey returned to the thing she was knew was the real reason he hesitated. He could not see himself the way she saw him and he resisted her love because he still thought himself unlovable, an idea she knew his nakedness compounded.

Evey dragged her hand down from its grip on his neck to the centre of his chest over his heart. Past experience with misunderstanding and hurt feelings forced Evey to be both direct and bold. "You think this is the first time I've ever considered you and I as lovers?"

The way V opened and then closed his mouth she wondered at the ease with which he could be unsettled.

Evey clarified her position further. "I've thought about you as a lover since the day you brought me here from BTN."

"I had not thought…" V started but she cut him off.

"Seriously? You _never_ thought about it?" She questioned knowing full well that he had.

"I would have had have been dead to avoid it." V said as his own hands began to move on her back.

The feel of his hands on her skin was wonderful, sensual, needed. Evey answered his caresses with new ones of her own. When he didn't resist, she allowed herself more freedom. Again her hand drifted lower. Again there was no indication when she closed in on her target until she had him in hand.

V froze, but did not withdraw. Pleased Evey tempted, "Then why not follow your heart?"

"My heart is located somewhat higher, Evey." V said placing a hand on hers, stopping her stroking but not removing her touch.

Without thinking Evey quipped, "And your brain should be in my hand right now. Can we call a truce and get on?"

V said nothing but removed his hand from hers allowing her to do to him what she would. She searched out his lips once more and her hand resumed stroking him, harder and faster than she had before.

V stopped breathing for a moment, the kiss became one sided and Evey wondered if she had gone too far. Then he pulled her on top of him.

Was he giving her the green light? Did he want her to take charge? What would the repercussions from this be? Questions flashed through Evey's mind without being answered. She was too absorbed processing the feel of him beneath her.

Her arm was squashed between them and Evey pulled it free more interested body to body contact than maintaining a grip on his manhood. His hands, rough yet oddly smooth, moved down her back to the curve at the base of her spine. There they stopped as if waiting for an invitation.

"Touch me, V. Anywhere you want." She whispered between kisses, hoping that he wouldn't assume she was just being polite.

VEV

Was this not a dream? A most vivid dream? Too often had dream and reality bled together confusing his purpose and blinding his vision. She was above him, looking down on him like some sort of angel. Perhaps he was finally dead and this was heaven.

The flawless skin beneath his fingers was real though and his hands seemed to have developed minds of their own. He was no longer in control of them as they roamed over the landscape of Evey's body. She arched into him, urging more intimate caresses with gesture and sound. What glorious music, the soft moans and sweet nothings of a woman near ecstasy.

Somewhere in the back of his blood deprived mind, V suspected what he was doing was going to be regretted later but he could not stop. Evey was atop him, grinding against him overwhelming his senses with need. It was a rough pleasure, the lace of her panties starting to rub him raw. He wouldn't have cared, but they stood between him and paradise. He hooked fingers into the sides of them and was pleased when the flimsy material gave way to his pull. Evey gasped and raised her hips inviting him to remove the last barrier between them.

Pulling the material free V was instantly rewarded with her hips back atop his, the ready wetness of her the final breach of his defenses.

"I love you, V." Evey whispered as she rose up and sank down on him, impaling herself with groan of pleasure.

He could not speak though his heart was composing sonnets of love. They were beautiful, the best poetry of his life, but he lost the verses in the effort to maintain some semblance of control. His hands gripped her hips tightly holding her still as he gathered his frayed nerves and sought to control his rebellious body. It took seconds to realize it was a battle he would not win.

She knew. "Let it go, V. I want you to."

It was not supposed to go like this. It was to take hours, to allow him to express how much he loved her, desired her, and needed her. Mere seconds were unacceptable.

"Let it go." Evey repeated finding a way to move her hips even though V struggled to hold them still. The sensation was too much and his own hips refused his control moving under her, meeting her, driving him deeper into her and closer to the edge with each stroke.

V came hard, washed over with an ecstatic joy he had never before felt and could not cope with. His body sang with pleasure as his heart broke open and it took him a while to recognize the sound filling the room. His own sobs, wracking through his body with the same force as the pleasure they replaced too quickly.

Evey was flat against him again, her arms around his neck, her face beside his, sounds of comfort filling his ear. He laid beneath her, held down both by the feather light weight of her body and the titanic power of her love.

EVE

Evey had never heard a sound more raw and agonized. It was horrible and all she could do was hold him tightly while talking into his ear trying to keep him in the present where things were beautiful and loving, but it was no use. His mind had gone somewhere terrible and she knew it was only a matter of time before he fled from her.

It still took her by surprise when he pushed her off of him, swept something off the floor and leaped out of bed. Before she could get a single word out the door slammed shut behind him.

Evey climbed out of bed slowly feeling strangely calm and bent down to gather her dressing gown. Throwing it over her shoulders she followed him out into the hallway and down the corridor to his rubber room, but the door was wide open and he was not inside.

VEV

21 Bram Stoker – Dracula

* * *

**I promise to allow V a better performance later on. :) It just didn't seem feasable to me that he would be uber lover after a 20 year celebacy. Thanks for all the on going encouragment. Were it not for that, I doubt this would be as close to complete as it is. More to come...**


	20. Chapter 20

**School is over for a while, I am nearly over my cold and my writers block has been defeated...finally. Sorry to have made you wait.**

* * *

"Where did you go?" Evey shouted into the dead air of the hallway. _Nice, Evey. He survives medical experimentation, a fire, a hail of bullets, and exsanguination only to be brought down by your impatience. Well done, you stupid bloody cow._

Where once she would have waited for his return with complacent blind faith, now she knew who she lived with and what he coped with. Her imagination was fertile ground for images of him torn apart by emotions he could not understand or cope with.

Evey had never ventured very far from the heart of the Gallery. He had told her there would be no more locked doors, but whenever she thought about exploring she felt like she was invading V's privacy. At the moment, she didn't care and started trying doors. Each one she tried opened into yet another room and then another room. The place was a maze and the further she went the more she knew how far away from her he had to be.

When she opened a door onto a long hallway lined with even more doors, Evey finally admitted defeat. She could not remember how many of them she had run through. All she knew was the lights were on motion sensors and came on in every place she entered and went off as soon as she left. It was spooky. If she stood still too long they went off, casting her into blackness. She would frantically move and then be blinded in a puddle of light in the midst of pitch black. She was becoming paranoid and her responses to noises from the shadows were ridiculous. _I've seen way too many horror movies._

Just as she was about to panic she glanced at the floor and discovered the clean path her dressing gown had cut through the dust. Without meaning to she had marked the way back and she followed her trail to the main part of the Shadow Gallery.

VEV

The next morning Evey woke to an empty bed. Knowing it was pointless she let her hand drift over the other side of the mattress. It was cold. He had not returned.

"Come home, V, please," she said to the emptiness. Stepping out into cool air she went through the rituals of the morning. V had left many times in the past for days at a time. She tried to tell herself this time wasn't so different and to go about the day as if it were any other.

It almost worked until she took a shower and noticed huge bruises on her hips. _Perfect. This will certainly help. _

His big fear of late seemed to be hurting her by accident. He did not need to see that he had. It would devastate him. It would not matter when she told him things like this happen in the throws of passion. He would see it as a sign of things to come and probably never touch her again. _Okay, Evey, you will just have to hide them from him until they're gone._

_He will see right through you. He always does,_ she reminded herself. V noticed everything. _Not true. He didn't notice how bad the lighting is in here. I look like died. If this is the only place he sees his own skin, no wonder he thinks it's so bad. _The tile was stark white, hospital looking and the way the light played off of it turned everything a brownish purple and brought out every flaw. Evey could see the freckles on her legs, the scar on her thigh and the stubble on her shins which must have been so rough against V's delicate skin.

_I need to be his mirror. He has to see himself the way I do so you have to go_, she silently told the overhead light fixture.

VEV

V sat in pitch blackness enlivened only by the monotonous drip, drip, drip of water keeping time for the scratchy music of rats as they scurried through the tunnels. He had heard it before, many times before. As it always did the sound pulled him backward to the moment he had come to understand the melody, but that came after...

The first St. Mary's lesion he had seen outside Larkhill was on the arm of the night shift nurse at hospital. It was a huge, glaring emblem of failure. He lay in bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages, wracked with pain, on enough morphine to kill a horse, and suddenly he knew all of it had been for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Crushed and convinced he had killed her, all he had wanted was a hole to crawl into and die in, but it was not to be. They caught him and carried him kicking and screaming back to his room. One injection later and the world had gone fuzzy. Things went on around him, but he wasn't really there. He could see them, hear them, feel them, but he could not reach them. His body was a prison barred in by drugs and tied down by restraints. Time had no relevance as he slipped in and out of semi-consciousness.

Days later he woke, semi-lucid and engulfed in the foreboding shriek of silence. The restraints he had imagined were not there and he stood and walked out into the hallway as if he were floating through a dream.

Things were no better when he walked through the haunting familiarity of streets he could not remember. People who had died on the pavement had been left where they fell. He felt as if the eyes of the dead followed him. He tried to escape their accusing stares, but they were everywhere.

In a last ditch effort to hide from them and the late autumn chill he broke into a house only to confirm the guilty could never outrun their sins. In the living room he encountered the family who had occupied the house. All of them were dead. Staring at the cherub face of a five year old girl made monstrous by St. Mary's lesions, grief and guilt battled him into his first truly blind rage.

It was short lived, his stamina such that he could not sustain it. Guilt closed over him like a shroud and rage gave way to despair. In his darkest moment, when killing himself by seppuku seemed the only honorable option and he was on his knees with a blade poised against his belly, something stayed his hand. All the remorse in the world made no difference and he was not a samurai able to restore his honor through ritualized death. There would be no peace, no freedom, no satisfaction until those more guilty than he suffered the same fate as their victims. If he was condemned to live in hell, he would take all those who put him there with him.

VEV

Twenty-four hours later Evey was sitting in the Shadow Gallery with nothing but anger to keep her company. It was not a good flatmate, coming and going in waves, dragging her down and spitting her back out, each time weaker and less able to fight off the despair which was trying to drown her.

Most of her fury was directed inward. It was her fault. If she had waited, given him time and allowed him to trust when he was ready for it, perhaps then it would have been okay. Love waited, it was patient and understanding. It didn't rush or push or insist on its own time table. It wasn't selfish or demanding. It wasn't crude or fickle. It bore no resemblance to how she treated V.

There was nowhere to seek comfort or hide from her guilt, but she kept wandering, feeling like she was treading water in a stormy sea. Her travels kept leading her back to V's padded room. Finally she made herself go in, determined to face her guilt. Standing in front of the punching bag she stared at its dull black surface and felt the urge to hit it.

Embarrassed, she tentatively punched it. There was a satisfying slap when her knuckles hit it but the bag didn't move. She hit it again, harder this time and the bag moved away from her a little. Better. She hit it a third time, this time grunting with the effort to make it hurt. The bag swung away and she chased it, hitting it again and again never letting it return to center. She kicked it and it jumped back from the power of her blow. That felt good and before she knew it she was punching, kicking, and screaming out her rage at the bag.

VEV

V had always thought the Shadow Gallery found him and not the other way around. The moment he pushed open the ancient wooden door he had known he was where he was supposed to be. It had been little more than a hole in the ground, but it was standing where the piano usually stood that he had first heard the music of the rats. He had been scratching about with them for weeks and had learned to ignore them, but in what would become his home, he found the melody of their music and the beauty which could masquerade in the hideous.

It was there, in the womb of London where he remade himself. There had been many setbacks, rages and black depressions which undid his work and stalled his progress. The Gallery was the silent victim of his internal battles. It felt the sting of his anger when there was nothing else to lash out at and it absorbed every tear he had ever shed. It had been his anchor, his mother, his lover and his friend.

It had also been his guide. It had reminded him of music, first with its rats and later which its acoustics. It had begged for a piano and he had given it one. Its walls had begged for beauty and he had given it that as well. Its many hallways and chambers asked for nourishment and he had given it the succor of the mind, filling it with books and journals, making it feel like the great library of Alexandria.

The Shadow Gallery was no mere repository of the past it also had the power to change the future. His home had a brain, a war room in which he planned the destruction of his enemies. He gave it eyes and ears, hacking his way into the Norsefire mainframes and using their surveillance against them. He gave it a mouth through which he filled its belly full of Norsefire goods, stockpiling them for later use. It went on for kilometers, so vast even he lost track of its scope at times, but inside, not matter how far he was from its heart, he always knew he was safe and one day, everything which had gone so horribly wrong would be set right.

VEV

Evey beat on the punching bag until she could no longer lift her arms. Slumping to the floor she knew she wasn't done. There was more inside that had to come out but at least she finally understood why V had the room.

She felt better, more in control. She wasn't despairing and she wasn't homicidally angry. The rage was not gone but it had abated enough for her to think again.

V had been right about things being emotionally charged and less than rational. She had not been prepared and she had responded badly.

She always told herself V was like no one she had ever known, which was true, but she continued to treat him like everyone else. She could not keep doing that. He didn't have the frame of reference necessary to understand what she was thinking or even doing.

Evey sat on the floor for a long time, trying to figure out how she should have handled the situation and how she would avoid situations like it in future, but the effort only made her more sad. Her attempt to love him had hurt him and it was that fundamental lack of understanding which would make it happen again if she didn't learn how to communicate better with him.

Wandering as she thought about it, she opened a door down the hallway from V's bedroom. It was another gallery, the paintings it contained more modern and abstract than those in the main Gallery. There was another door at the back of the room and when she pushed it open she discovered his studio. The lights were bright and there were several easels covered over with cotton sheets to protect their canvases from dust. In the small refrigerator she found several oil paint pallets and a few bottles of water. On the work table she found a neat stack of sketch books.

Flipping the top one open she discovered all the drawings were of her. He drew her laughing, watching telly, eating breakfast and curled up with a book. He captured her angry, exasperated, smirking, joking, and playing. As she continued down the stack the theme continued until the last few. Those contained the sketches she was used to. The smiling face of a child, the gentle touch exchanged by an old woman and her husband, they were images representing what he had fought for.

Looking at his art felt like stealing a peak at his soul and she hastily restacked the pile and turned to leave only to have her exit arrested by a very familiar image. She'd had a poster of Klimt's 'The Kiss' once. The real one was much larger and more brightly colored than she thought. She had always loved the painting, seeing tenderness in the way the man held his lover. His kiss against her cheek seemed the most delicate foreplay. Her eyes were closed, her expression slack as if given over completely to the ecstasy of his touch. Everything she wanted was captured in it.

Looking around Evey realized it was the only art in the room V had not created himself. It had to be something he cherished, some ideal he longed for. The painting was the most intimate glimpse she had ever had at V's heart. Feeling a jolt of guilt she fled the room glad she had seen the painting, but certain she had gone too far.

VEV

The Shadow Gallery had saved England. As the world above imploded and the men he hated most rose to power, V filled his home with their discards. With ferocious speed they devoured free expression outlawing books, art, music and anything else which might bring joy to people. He collected as much of it as he could, but the flood gates were open and the tide was too much for one man. Priceless bits of history ran like blood out of his homeland and most of the pieces that stayed became shrines to wealth and power in the homes of the wicked and corrupt.

Norsefire killed their own people and then covered their tracks by outlawing history. They confined the living in a cage of fear and those who fought them began to disappear in numbers so vast it was not long before the missing outnumbered the dead.

V had done the math. Evey's parents were black bagged almost a year to the day from his escape from hospital. If he had started sooner, been more bold, taken greater risks, perhaps they might have lived.

Evey.

He pictured her sitting curled up in her blanket on the couch. He tried to make her do something, like watch telly or read a book but he knew she was staring at the wall worried sick and feeling guilty.

_How many ways can you hurt her_, he wondered. _God, what she must be thinking. _

He climbed to his feet and centered himself. Deciding on a direction, he began the journey home.

VEV

Evey woke on the couch to a strange intermittent buzzing coming from under the telly. Her body ached but she got up to investigate the sound discovering her mobile wedged between the wall and the back leg of the television table. It hurt when she reached to grab it, her knuckles protesting her efforts to bend them, but she was so happy to have contact with the outside world, it didn't matter.

Flipping it open she was greeted with, "Where the hell have you been?"

It took five minutes for Finch's anger to vent before he was able to be civilized again. As he talked, giving her updated information about the twenty-eighth and other topside events she had ignored since returning to the Gallery, Evey grabbed a rag and went back to the padded room.

She had not made nearly the mess V had, but there was a little blood from her ruined knuckles on the punching bag and the floor near by. _V and I are two peas in the same crazy pod. I cannot believe I feel better after this. _

"Evey, are you listening to me?" Finch's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Of course I am." Evey replied wondering what he had been talking about.

"What are you doing?" He asked as she climbed to her feet satisfied she had left the room in good condition for the next time one of them needed it.

Wandering back out into the main part of the Gallery she told him, "Cleaning."

There was a pause then he asked, "Are you holding up okay?"

"Yeah." She lied, wondering what time it was and when V would be home. She knew he was on his way, could feel it in her gut and the closer she imagined him to be the more acrobatic the butterflies in her belly became.

"Why don't you come by tonight? I hate thinking of you alone down there for Christmas."

_Stupid bloody Christmas_, she thought. It wasn't an easy holiday for anyone she cared about, but as much as she wanted to include Finch, this was not the year for it. "Thanks, but I want to stay down here."

"Evey…"

"Since when has pushing me gotten you anywhere, Eric?" She cut him off not wanting to fight.

He grumbled for a while but finally gave up after she promised to call him in the morning.

Feeling a little better to have her phone back and thankful it had signal, she put it back on the charger and tried to still the riot of nerves in her stomach. Hoping telly would help she flipped to BTN for the news, but propaganda could not hold her attention.

Instead she remembered how she used to avidly listen for reports of Santa's whereabouts throughout Christmas Eve while baking cookies with her mum. The memory was warm and Evey made her way into the kitchen intent on honoring her mother by continuing her tradition.

As she flipped through a cookbook looking for familiar recipes she felt tears begin to form again. Brushing her sleeve over her eyes she tried to think on the good times and how she had the chance to do for V what her parents had done for her.

She tried to imagine what it would be like when he walked through the door. In her perfect world he would come through confident, happy and ready to ravish her. In reality it would be terribly awkward and he would be paying acute attention to every nuance. With that in mind, Evey decided to put off baking in lieu of a shower and clean clothes.

After several outfit changes ranging from a formal dress to nothing at all, she opted for a set of pajamas. Their luxury said she wanted to look nice for him while the fact they were pajamas said she was comfortable. They were a deep crimson silk which was his favorite color and also his favorite material. The pants were a little long when she wore them low on her hips, but the bruises weren't visible and she wanted a bit of midriff showing. The camisole was very small and probably a little too suggestive so she shrugged on a hoodie leaving it unzipped.

People in love made love and she wanted him aware of the possibilities but not so aware he felt pressured. From here on they would move at his speed, not hers. Feeling appropriately costumed to convey her intentions she applied a touch of make up and went to set the rest of the stage.

Back in the main room she set the music to play Christmas carols at random and made sure all the holiday lights were on and all the others were off. She put a couple of cinnamon-apple scented candled on the table and lit them. V had put her bags in her room and she retrieved them and mingled her packages with the ones already under the tree. The stage was set. All she needed was her costar.

She was on her second batch of cookies when the energy in the Gallery changed and she knew he was home but it was another gut wrenching, self recriminating hour before realized he wasn't going to come to her. _If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed will go to the mountain…or something like that._

VEV

V knew if Evey were beside him in the dark she would be blind to the vision before him. He wondered idly if he had always been able to see so well in the dark or if he had Delia to thank for it. It didn't matter. Not really.

Sudden light glowing from under the door startled him. Evey. _Of course, she knows you're here. She always does. You should have gone to her, you bloody coward._

Knowing what he should do did not move him. Though he'd had the best intentions when he returned, when it came down to it he could not bring himself to face her. He was still drowning in the past, unable to free himself and he did not want to drag her down again. He needed more time.

If he moved the lights would come on and she would know where he was. He could hear her voice calling to him. There was no panic in it, but he could feel her concern wafting down the hallway and under the door towards him. She was coming, a relentless hunter armed with hope and a quiver of feelings which remained both alien and familiar at the same time. _Turn back, Evey. I thought I was strong enough, but I'm not. I cannot do this with you now._

She did not heed his silent warning. He could hear her slippered feet on the flagstone and see the lights outside growing brighter as she drew nearer. He could not move, trapped by his own lighting system. He had to hope she would pass the room by. She didn't. The door opened, the lights came on and she was standing in the doorway looking both relieved and nervous.

"There you are. Can I join you?"

_Go away, leave me be,_ he tried to say but the words did not come.

"V, I have to tell you something." She stepped into the room and closed the door. Looking nervous, she sat beside him on the floor, close but not touching. "I'm sorry."

"Aren't we all." He muttered.

She shook her head and balled her hands together in her lap. "No. I mean for all of this. I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted to love you and…"

He felt himself drifting away and tried to hold onto the present but the past crashed against his fortress of black silk and white porcelain and overran his walls. "I remember the first St. Mary's lesion I saw in the real world. It was on the arm of a nurse at hospital. She'd looked dreadful the day before, but when she leaned over me and I saw her arm…I knew."

"I don't want to talk about St. Mary's anymore. I want…"

"Someone had given me Victor Frankel's 'Man's Search for Meaning'. It's a wonderful book about the power of attitude and finding meaning in the small things. He was in Auschwitz. His life had been much like mine and I needed a template to rebuild from. Reading his book, Evey, I thought perhaps I could make something of the rest of my life. I thought perhaps I could fill the void inside me. Then I saw her arm. To fail like that…" He shook his head, determined not to allow it to crush him again. "What had been a hole became a bottomless pit and no matter what I do, I cannot fill it."

She tried again, "It wasn't your f…"

V cut her off, "There were only two possibilities. I failed to stop their research when I demolished Larkhill or I was a walking plague. Which would you prefer to live with were you faced with such a choice?"

"V…I don't, I can't…" She sighed, pulling her legs into her chest and holding onto them tightly.

"They were dying, patients first then the staff. White hazmat suits were no match for the virus. I could not stay there anymore, but outside was worse. Surreal. I could not distinguish reality from delusion. All I knew was the streets I was walking, that I had never seen before, were familiar. I knew there was a pub on the corner and I knew where the news stand was, but I did not, do not, know why I knew those things."

He paused for a moment, mentally walking those streets and trying not to see the people on them. "Leaving the dead where they fell was brilliant. Living plague art, God what Bosch might have created from it. Hell on earth. The Thames recast as the river Styx. A nightmare from which you could not wake."

"I remember." Evey whispered.

He could not look at her, could not express the sorrow he felt or the depth of his regret.

She sniffled and reached for his gloved hand. "You didn't do this."

"My guilt is not so great when compared against others, but I am indirectly responsible for the deaths of nearly one hundred thousand people and," he paused for a split second, "solely responsible for sixty-eight others."

"Oh." She nodded, the soft caressing motion of her fingers on the back of his hand stopping.

"Not hundreds as you imagined." He attempted to make it sound a little better. _Why did you tell her that? Is this really a road you wish to travel?_

There was a long pause and then she squeezed his hand. "But all of that's over now. Your vendetta is complete, no more killing."

_Just lie. Tell her what she needs to hear. You cannot predict the future anyway. It might prove true in the end. _He sighed. "I would like to tell you that you are right but in the spirit of truth, I cannot. The future is unpredictable and I will not limit my options prematurely."

She swallowed and withdrew her hand. She did not look at him as she asked, "So you might kill more people?"

He pulled his knees against his chest, mimicking her pose without realizing it. "I hope not, but...try to understand, there has never been pleasure in death for me. I did what I had to do to make things right. I admit, I enjoyed the hunt and it pleased me when they were dead, there was catharsis in knowing they would never hurt another soul, but actually killing them meant nothing to me."

"Nothing?"

"It was a task to be completed as efficiently and quietly as possible. I felt no more about it than I would about putting the kettle on or folding laundry."

"Oh." It was a small word but the revulsion carried with it was a dagger in V's heart.

"And thus the rose colored glasses crack and you see me for what I truly am." _It's over, happy now? _

Silence descended between them as he struggled not to cry and she picked at one of the scabs on her mangled knuckles. She did not have to tell him how it happened. He knew already. _I am driving her mad. _

"You're just trying to scare me away, aren't you?"

He shrugged, "They were terrifying times. I made death my companion so others might live, but I was too late. Too late for the family I lived with. Far too late."

"Who did you live with?" She asked, looking at him for the first time since she walked into his studio.

"I never knew who they were. I ate their food, wore their clothes and slept in their beds, but I never knew them." Seeing the question in her eyes he added, "They were dead. It was before the sweeper crews began coming through the city, before Norsefire won the elections. White X's on all the doors. I watched them rot down to the bone before the sweepers finally came."

"Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Where should our century's Typhoid Mary have gone? I wanted to be there. I wanted to live in the heart of my failure, to feel the sting of my folly."

"Good God, V."

He knew he should stop there, but his mouth ran on. "The worst part, the most terrible part, was I couldn't feel it. All I had left was rage. It was, is, the only thing that lives in the void."

"Even now?"

"No, now the void is merely a void." He paused. "Revenge has merited nothing. I destroyed what they created and still I feel hollow."

"I see." From her voice he knew she was about to cry.

"Don't misunderstand, Evey." She looked at him, brown eyes hopeful. "I love you in my way, but I wonder if I love you in the same way you love me. You were born in love and grew up in it. You _know_ what love is. I'm never sure if what I think I feel corresponds to the label I give it. I know I'm not expressing how I feel correctly. Nothing about this is easy for me which makes is hard for you. I'm sorry."

"I know." Evey straightened out her legs and looked like she was thinking about leaving. "In my head I had a light, easy day planned. I was going to bake, you were going to poke fun at my cooking skills. I was going to tell you all about Christmas with the Hammonds and it was going to be fun."

_Let her go_, he told himself. "Mix a little foolishness with your serious plans; it's lovely to be silly at the right moment. We have wallowed in my darkness long enough. Have some fun, go bake." 22

She stood and looked down at him. "Will you come with me?"

"Not right now, no."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be. I'll join you soon."

VEV

Evey had made enough cookies to feed an army by the time V emerged from the shadows. Not knowing what to say to him she offered, "I have brownies, snickerdoodles, oh, and some sugar cookies in the oven."

"They smell delicious." He said while not reaching for one as he perched on the barstool opposite her.

"Here." Evey shoved the tray of cookies toward him feeling angry and hurt. He was still wearing Guy Fawkes and a Jacobean silk suit. Walls and barriers. He used the truth the same way. He was pushing her away with it, presenting it in the ugliest way possible, trying to make her see himself the way he did.

He ignored the cookies instead reaching for one of her hands while asking, "What happened to your knuckles?"

From tone of voice she could tell the question was just a diversion and he already knew what had happened to them. She pulled her hand out of reach and snapped, "You're smart. I'm sure you can work it out."

"I see." He leaned back in his chair as if she had slapped him. After a very long silence he said, "You have a right to be angry…"

She slammed her spoon back into the cookie batter and splashed a little on the counter top. "You're right, I do. You use the truth like a weapon, do you know that?"

The mask fell and the wig closed over it like a curtain. "Yet if he upbraided her in his hurry, it was to repent bitterly his temper the next instant, and to feel its effects more than she, temper being a weapon that we hold by the blade." 23

"Great. That's great, V. I don't care what Shakespeare had to say. I want to know what was going through _your_ mind." _Rein it in, Evey. You set the mood, don't let him drag it down again. Raise it up._

"That was Barrie, my dear."

"Who? Never mind. Might you have some thought of your own you would like to share with me?"

"I…don't have the words." He looked like he was considering the cookies.

"So that's it then?"

"I'm sorry, Evey." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter. His gloved hand reached out toward her. "I underst…"

"I love you and I am not leaving you." She snapped as she pulled her hand out of reach. _You're being mean_, she scolded herself. _He doesn't get it and this is not the plan._

"Yes, I know." He said as his hand withdrew back to his lap. His head tilted downward and she knew her refusal hurt him.

"Do you really?"

"Yes." He said into his lap.

_Not yet you don't. If you did you wouldn't be wearing Guy Fawkes._ Still, it was another step in the right direction. _Reward it._

Before she could think of something to say he looked up. "I know what this must look like to you."

"I doubt it." She said gently.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Evey. I chose my words poorly."

_He feels badly, let him off the hook. _She reached out for his hand which he gave to her. Running her thumb over his leather clad knuckles she back peddled. "You are the most eloquent person I know. There must not have been a better way to say it."

"It is not my intention to…"

"Sticks and stones, right?" It was time to let the past go and get on with the fun available in the immediate future but a voice in the back of her mind kept saying, y_ou have to tell him._ "Seriously though, I have to tell you something. It scared me when you left and I couldn't follow you. The last time something like this happened, you almost bled to death, remember? I've been locked in here terrified for you for the last three days. If something happened to you it would have been my fault."

His other hand closed over hers sandwiching it inside black leather. "None of this is your fault, love. I should not have left, but sometimes even this place feels like a prison."

"And I'm your guard."

"No, Evey, no." The mask came up and faced her. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Everything I built is falling apart…"

"Is this were you tell me to sod off?" Evey asked, seizing the opportunity to let him see how she felt whenever he claimed to "understand".

There was a smile in his voice when he said, "Ah, yes. I see. No, I will never leave you, Evey."

"But I'm ruining everything." She mock whined.

"I believe you are the only person alive who can tongue tie me like this. What I should have said is things are changing. My world has been rigidly structured and it appears though I have a talent for creating change, I am not as adaptable as I expect others to be."

VEV

"Oh," was all she said. He expected her to say something sarcastic, but she pulled away and reached for a tray of cookies. Holding it out to him she said, "I promise they're good. I didn't mistake salt for sugar if that's what you're thinking."

Clearly she was done wallowing in his misery and V was grateful for the distraction. He was ravenously hungry suddenly, but the room was very bright and he couldn't ask her to leave anymore.

She pushed the tray closer teasing, "I know you want one."

_Nothing new here, she's seen it all_. Still it was scary to take off the mask even if he was wearing the black one under Guy Fawkes. When he looked up she was studying him. Her eyes were no longer angry or teasing, instead he saw eagerness. Feeling like a fool for finding eating in front of her a challenge he reached for a snickerdoodle. Taking a bite he looked up into her beaming face. It was ridiculous for her to be so pleased by something so trivial.

"So, how'd I do?" she asked.

"Quite well. This is my favorite. Did I ever tell you?" He took another bite, much larger this time and reached for another.

"Nope, but my dad used to love them. My mum only made them for him at Christmas. He had a hard time maintaining his waistline, you know. She and I always baked on Christmas Eve. It was our tradition." She reached for a brownie.

"It is a wonderful one. Is this her recipe?" He was on his third cookie already. _You need to eat something more substantial than this_, the reasonable part of his brain informed him while his hand reached for a fourth snickedoodle.

"No, but still pretty good though I think." She took a bite of brownie.

"Indeed. I had a roast and…"

"Roast beast." She smiled. "I pulled it out earlier to thaw."

"Roast beast?" V asked after swallowing his forth and, he was determined, last cookie until he had eaten something resembling a proper supper.

"From the 'Grinch Who Stole Christmas', the feast in the finale. My brother thought roast beef was roast beast. He was four." She took another brownie from the stack and broke it in half. She put one half back and popped the other in her mouth.

"So many memories." V said sadly, wishing once again he could restore her family to her.

She reached out for his hand, letting her fingers play around the break between glove and sleeve. "Yeah, but they're good ones. Remembering them this way makes me happy. I've been looking forward to sharing my family traditions with you and maybe adding a few of our own."

"I would like that very much." V returned her smile, which only made hers grow wider. It confused him for a moment until he realized it was because she could actually see the happiness on his lips.

She came around the counter and wrapped her arms around him from the side. With her head resting on his shoulder and her lips against the silk covering his throat she said, "Well then. We finish the baking. Then we eat cookies until the sugar high makes us giddy. Then we make supper before sugar coma takes over. We nap while the roast is in the oven. When we wake up we finish cooking while drinking brandied eggnog or champagne. I hate eggnog so my vote is for the bubbly but that choice I leave to you. Finally we eat supper and then watch 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas' or "It's a Wonderful Life' during which cookie consumption is optional and alcohol consumption is mandatory. We open one present each and once we can hardly keep our eyes open we go to bed. In the morning we wake up very early. I am talking four in the morning style early, we guzzle down coffee with brandy, a bit of the hair of the dog, and then we open the rest of the presents. After that we have a huge breakfast and we spend the rest of the day lolling about like useless lumps in front of the telly complaining about how fat we are. How does that sound?"

V could not contain a chuckle. "Like a holiday juggernaut."

She pulled back and looked at him. "Yes, but do you want to do it?"

"It sounds lovely."

"Good. Go get more comfortable. I'll wait." She squeezed him hard and then let go, pushing his arm in an apparent attempt to hurry him.

VEV

22 Horace

23 John M. Barrie – The Little Minister

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**Thanks especially to Belmont Bellamy and bluecrowlaughing for reminding me that I need to finish this. It is nice to know people are enjoying my story.**


	21. Chapter 21

**You know, I had the grand plans of spending all of Christmas break writing. It was not to be. School starts on Tuesday so my LONG delays between chapters will continue. If anyone was wondering how I did last semester, I did well. This semester will be much the same only harder since I am replacing an English class with Calculus (yuck!). This story keeps growing on me and the end seems farther away than ever but I still intend to finish it. **

* * *

VEV

He had almost disappeared down the hallway toward his rooms when Evey called after him, "V? Can you tell me where you hide the wine?"

"It would be better if I showed you. This way." She trotted up to his side and took his hand as if they were strolling in the park. Her resiliency surprised him. She should still be angry, but she clearly wasn't. Once again she had forgiven the unforgivable and loved him in spite of himself.

Still contemplating his good fortune he led her to a closet and opened the door. Her brow knitted in confusion, but then he pushed the wall of the closet and it opened.

"Very sneaky, V." She scolded through a smile.

"Unintentional I assure you. I needed a closet and I don't go back here very often. It made sense at the time." He said as he stepped through the doorway and switched on the light.

"Wow." Evey exclaimed as she took in the great length of the tunnel and the number of doors coming off it.

V moved to the first door and pushed it open. The contents did not represent even half the alcohol supply in the Gallery. "For all his talk of warm milk, Sulter appears to have been a lush behind closed doors."

"This is amazing." Evey said as she stepped into the room her neck craning up to look at case stacked on case of wine piled to the ceiling. Turning her attention back to the hallway she asked, "What's down there?"

"Storerooms." He remembered filling the rooms and feeling like a pack mule. The thought of it made his back ache.

"Can I look?"

"Of course you may. What's mine is yours." He responded, knowing she had already begun to explore. He had seen her trail in the dust. _She is so like you. She has not lied, but she has neatly skated past the truth. You could call her out, but it would serve no purpose. She knows you know and through your silence she knows you don't mind. How odd to say so little and convey so much._

His thoughts were interrupted when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. It surprised him, but his body was on automatic pilot and before he had time to process a response his lips were returning her kiss. Just as his brain caught up with his body and he was actively engaged, she broke away. "Go change. I'll meet you in the kitchen with champagne and a willingness to chop veggies."

VEV

It felt fantastic to kiss him. It felt even better to be kissed back. He would have stood there all night snogging she knew, but she had once again broken her own rule. His time table had not called for kissing. Hers had. _Move slower. Let him initiate_, she reminded herself as she carried two bottles back to the kitchen.

When he joined her he looked like a ninja, clad in black from head to toe. His shirt was a second skin revealing every ripple of muscle and the trousers were wide and loose on his hips. Once again only his lips were visible which made them a bull's eye target. _His pace, move at his pace_, she reminded herself again.

When he stepped around the counter he made an elegant bow and said, "Command me, madam."

He only played when he was feeling confident and pleased with himself. It had been a long time since she had seen this mood. Happy to play along, Evey put on her poshest accent and commanded, "Prepare the roast beast."

"As you wish, my lady." He said and she could not only hear the smile in his voice she could see it on his lips. He had perfect teeth. Expensively perfect. Braces perfect. What was his childhood like?

As she considered the past, V set the roast on the counter and pulled a knife from a drawer. He took his time inspecting its edge. Where did he learn so much about knives? How did he memorize so much Shakespeare? Where did his perfect manners come from?

"You volunteered to chop did you not?" V asked, flipping the knife in his hand he presented her the hilt with his head bowed.

"Did you always know Latin?" The question popped out and she inwardly cringed, certain she had destroyed his good humor.

"Yes." He withdrew the knife and leaned against the counter behind him with his head cocked to the left.

Posture indicated he was not upset by the question and her curiosity flowed on. "And fencing, did you always know that?"

"Yes, Evey." He nodded.

"How did you learn to make bombs?"

"I've no idea where the knowledge for the first one came from. Subsequent efforts were refined by renewed study."

"Oh." She muttered as he turned his attention back to the roast. _Stop asking questions. Let him be. _

With his back to her he continued, "Eclectic is it not? I often wonder what possessed me to study pyrotechnics alongside literature. It's an odd pairing if I do say so myself."

"A true renaissance man." She smiled glad her interrogation had not led to another breakdown.

He turned back toward her and allowed her to see the slight smile on his face. "It is an uneasy lot at best, to be what we call highly taught and yet not to enjoy: to be present at this great spectacle of life and never to be liberated from a small hungry shivering self--never to be fully possessed by the glory we behold, never to have our consciousness rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought, the ardor of a passion, the energy of an action, but always to be scholarly and uninspired, ambitious and timid, scrupulous and dim-sighted." (24)

"You are anything but uninspired or timid, V." Evey scolded.

He shook his head. "Perhaps only a little dim-sighted and scholarly. But why dwell on the past or wallow in present failings?" Once again he held the knife hilt out to her. "Might you see fit to keep your earlier promise to chop the vegetables?"

Smiling she reminded him, "I'm not the knife expert in this house."

He chuckled as he made a complicated flourish with the knife before driving the tip of it into the chop block with a loud thud. "I see. Perhaps you would be good enough to open the champagne?"

"That I can do."

As she tried to remove the foil from one of the bottles V looked up from what he was doing and sniffed the air. "Your cookies are burning."

"Oh bollocks." Evey moaned as she reached for an oven mitt and pulled out a tray of charred cookies.

V laughed and turned on the air vent. While she stood fanning away the smoke he finished opening the champagne and handed her a glass with a smirk on his lips.

"I feel like an idiot." She took a sip and leaned against the counter. It figured when she tried to impress him with her culinary talent it would go spectacularly wrong.

"There is only one idiot in this room and it's certainly not you." His head was down making her fear his mood had swung to the morose.

Beating herself over the head for being so insensitive with her questions and hoping to stave off his misery she moved over beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Maybe we're both idiots and that's why we work."

His arm came around her and he pulled her in tighter. "Or perhaps we simply balance each other."

VEV

V hurried through his chopping. The pieces he cut were not as even as they usually were, but he decided vegetable symmetry was not important. He was nervous and nothing was ever as perfect as it could be when he was feeling shaky.

He was close to completing the preparations for supper. Evey's cookies were done and she was sitting on a stool watching him as she sipped champagne. He had three potatoes to go and then they were on to the next step in Evey's holiday marathon. Nap time.

Though she called it a nap, which by definition involved sleeping, he was fairly certain sleep was not her intention. Being desired was a new sensation and one he could not quite comprehend. The possibility she would be repulsed and refuse him no longer existed. She had seen and accepted every ugly truth he could dig up about himself. She asked questions out of interest and concern and she accepted the answers without judgment. She loved him. It was no longer a wish or a hope, but a reality. If he thought about it too long it sent him reeling.

"We can clean later. It's nap time." She said the moment his knife sliced through the last potato.

"As you wish." He said stripping off wet, dirty gloves after a moment's hesitation. His hands were horrible, scarred worse than anywhere else. A second fire had undone all the work of the burn center. It was accidental, a careless mistake. He put them behind his back, out of sight, but Evey grabbed one and looked up at him with an encouraging smile.

"Come on." She pulled and he followed. V could not understand why the texture of his hand did not bother her the way it bothered him. Looking down at her perfectly formed hand engulfed in his deformed one, he almost pulled away from her. _She doesn't care. She never has, this is your problem._

At the door to his bedroom she paused. "There is no graceful way to do this so I will just out with it. If you would like company I would be happy to oblige. However, if you want to sleep alone, that's okay too. I know you're exhausted."

"Evey, I…"

"It's okay. I love you and it is okay. I'll see you in a couple hours." She squeezed his hand and started to turn away.

V held on. "Had I been allowed to finish, I would have invited you to join me."

A smile bloomed on her face. "I see. You _would_ have. Does this mean I'm uninvited now?"

"Of course not."

Immediately she removed her white hoodie, revealing a very small red camisole and slipped into his bed. Apparently she expected some sort of dilemma because she quickly informed him of her intentions. "I promise not to molest you."

V hesitated for just a moment wondering if not being molested was a good thing. He was fairly certain it wasn't but if he wanted more than a nap it was apparently up to him to make that happen. Scenes from hundreds of stories danced in his imagination, each giving him a different impression of what he was supposed to do next but none of them strong enough to guide him.

Evey solved his problem by holding out one arm and patting her chest with the other hand. "Your head goes right here."

He obliged, shifting halfway onto his stomach and resting his head over her heart in mimicry of all the times she had done the same to him. Her arms came around him and one hand rested on the back of his head while the other rested on his shoulder.

She shifted a little under him and then sighed. "I know what you're thinking."

"Do you?"

He could feel her smiling against his forehead. "Yes, I do. I owe you an apology because my timing was very bad and I want you to know we're moving at your pace from here on. Whenever you're ready, I'm willing…but not right now. Right now I need some sleep."

He could not think of a response, but apparently she did not need one. She kissed the top of his head and said, "Sweet dreams."

V did not think he would sleep, believed there was absolutely no way he would be able to with her so close, but the line between reality and dream began to fade and before long he tasted the first sleep he had had in several days.

VEV

Evey lay awake listening to V breathe. She figured he would be tired and she had been right. Anguish was exhausting. She was tired too but the novelty of having him so close made sleep impossible.

Long ago she had equated physical closeness with security. Falling asleep in her mother's arms was the greatest comfort she ever knew. Later JRC taught her that closeness could be dangerous too. Bad things happened there, but in spite of the price she inevitably paid, she never gave up looking for the security she had felt when wrapped in another's arms. Over and over again she had been used and then abandoned but still she kept trying.

She didn't have to try anymore. At least not in the same way. She was not the child seeking comfort but the mother offering it to a reluctant child. _Bad analogy, you do not want to be his mother._

Still, V didn't remember the safety of an embrace. He had no mother, no father, no sisters or brothers. There was no one who gave him comfort or offered him security. He associated people with pain. He tried not to. She knew he did, but the hurts he had suffered were as deeply rooted in his psyche as her memories of love and kindness.

Yet here he was, asleep in her arms, trusting her with his secrets and his body, trusting her when he did not even trust himself.

"I love you." She mouthed the words not wanting to wake him and ruin the moment.

It was as if he heard because he snuggled against her in his sleep. His face was buried in the crook of her neck.

Evey's hand ran down his back. She was risking becoming a projectile again, but he didn't stir. Taking an even greater risk she let her hand roam further down his spine to the curve of his very squeezable bottom. This earned her a sigh but nothing more.

_He knows he's safe,_ she thought, perilously close to over confidence. _He knows I love him._ She kissed his masked forehead wishing this final barrier could be removed. _One step at a time, Evey. Be patient._

As she basked in the glow of his trust she heard the distant buzz of the oven announcing supper. V, usually so alert, did not move.

Evey smiled telling herself that a week ago she would be in a heap on the floor across the room. Doubt flickered, reminding her that what she thought of as trust might simply be exhaustion. _No, he trusts me._

In a perfect world she would have slipped out, turned off the oven and then slipped back into bed without being noticed, but he was half on top of her and she could not move unless she woke him.

She tried to ignore the sound, but it grated on her nerves and she began worrying. First Christmas, first roast beast, first meal together…it was too important to ruin. She would have to wake him.

"V?" She spoke close to his ear.

His head shot up and he was sitting in bed before she knew what was happening. He glanced over at her and then sank back into the pillows with a yawn. "Roast is done, it seems."

Evey leaned over him, thought about kissing him, reminded herself about her promise not to press and with a sigh reached across him to turn on the light. "Phase three of Operation Christmas is about to commence. Are you hungry?"

"Famished."

Looking at him, her Jacobean ninja posed against the pillows like the cover of a very odd romance novel, Evey had a hard time containing herself. _I want him. God, do I want him. No, you promised. Maybe I could just kiss him. There's no harm in a kiss, is there? No there isn't. He wouldn't mind. He'd like it. He liked it in the hallway. It isn't really pushing. Not really. It's just kissing. He's thinking about it too. Look at him. Come on V, kiss me._

It felt like an eternity as she waited for him to make a move. It was as if she could hear the wheels turning in his head. Just as it seemed he would reach for her, he pulled back the covers and asked, "Shall we eat?"

"Oh yes, I'm starving." Evey tried to sound chipper. Either he didn't notice or he chose to ignore the disappointment she was hiding.

VEV

V found eating with Evey delightful. It was such a common thing shared by people all over the world, but he had never done it before. The closest he came to eating with someone was when the feeding tube was removed at hospital and a nurse had helped him eat the first real food, if you could call Jello food, he'd had in months.

He pushed the memory aside, recognizing it for the sink hole it was. He did not want to live in the past tonight. He wanted to enjoy the present.

She looked so happy sitting across the table from a burned man in a mask. He did not like her looking proudly at him as though a simple dinner was some sort of accomplishment. Surely it had not always been like this. It must have been normal once. _He_ must have been normal once.

_You ate meals with your family Before. _He looked across at her. _She is reliving her past with me. These are her family's traditions. I stole this from her._ The thought made him begin to sink and he tried to fight it off. _They stole this from me first. I don't even have the memories to share with her. Nothing. They left me with nothing. _The injustice of it made him angry.

"V?"

"I'm sorry. You were saying?" He tried to focus on Evey. She was concerned and he didn't know why.

"I didn't know you could bend steel." She said pointing her fork at the L shaped knife in his fist. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." He lied in an effort to invent a truth. He wanted to be fine.

She contemplated him for a while. There was nowhere to hide from her staring and he grew uncomfortable. Just as he was about to rise and clear the table she said, "I've been meaning to ask you something. May I?"

The last thing V wanted was another question, but he settled back into his chair and nodded.

She glanced away and a flush bloomed on her cheeks. "Why did you invite me to your concert that night?"

"Why did you go with me?"

She gave him back her eyes, expression serious. "I asked you first."

His thoughts jumbled and the only thing he could think of to say was, "You know how often the turning down this street or that, the accepting or rejecting of an invitation, may deflect the whole current of our lives into some other channel. Are we mere leaves, fluttered hither and thither by the wind, or are we rather, with every conviction that we are free agents, carried steadily along to a definite and pre-determined end?" (25)

Seriousness turned to irritation on her face and she leaned back in her chair. "That's a quote isn't it? I used to love it when you quoted literature to me. I really did, but now it drives me crazy because you only ever do it when it's something important."

"I see." She had a valid point. He did fall back on the mountains of books he had read. Nearly everything he knew about how to interact with Evey came from them. On his own, he felt awkward and unable to communicate adequately. He tried to explain. "In my defense, the words of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle expressed what I myself could not. They are no less true because they are the words of someone else."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "But I want to know what _you_ think, not what some dead writer said."

"As you wish though I think the answer will displease you." He paused wishing for a stroke of genius which did not come. With a sigh he admitted, "I don't know. I've often wondered why I did it. All I do know is I am glad I did."

She smiled and uncrossed her arms. Leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table in a pose which gave him a direct view down her shirt she told him, "That was a much better answer."

Trying not to stare, but to not look like he was trying not to stare, he asked, "Why did you accompany me?"

"I thought you were barking mad, but it had been a very long time since someone stood up for me. You made me feel safe. How could I say no?"

"I see."

She blushed fiery red and let her head hang as she mumbled, "And you reminded me of Zorro."

He laughed out loud.

Her head shot up and she protested earnestly, "In a good way. Zorro was hot."

He laughed harder. "You thought I was…hot?"

"I still do."

Suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. Instead he could think of hundreds of reasons why her statement was untrue. Looking at her he could tell she was sincere but she had to be insane to think he was…hot. What a stupid expression. Hot. He had been hot once, on fire in fact. Blazing hot. Flames licking away his skin making him a monst…

"I don't think I have ever been so full in my life." Evey said loudly interrupting his thoughts and catapulting him back to the present. "Want to see where roast beast comes from?"

VEV

Evey sat on the couch with her back against V's chest. One of his hands was on her stomach, bare skin against bare skin. When he first put his hand there his touch had been tentative and cautious. He seemed ready to pull away at the slightest indication from her, but after a while he relaxed and so did she. Toward the end of the film he kissed the back of her head and pulled her tighter against himself.

Evey was only half watching the movie, inside she was still beating herself up for choosing her words so poorly. _Why did you have to call him hot? Of all the adjectives to choose you select the fire reference. Gah. _

On the screen the Grinch's heart grew three sizes. Evey remembered her brother and how he had loved this part. He had been overjoyed when the Grinch gave back the presents. It confirmed the childish belief that in the end, everything would always be okay. Back then they both had been so certain there were no truly bad people, only people who needed to be loved. Evey knew better now. Some things were never okay and no amount of hope or love could fix them.

She ruminated further as the roast beast was carved and all of Whoville came together to sing. She and Andrew used to sing along back in the days when she could trust blindly and love innocently.

The next year he was dead. Her parents went through the motions of Christmas for her, but it felt hollow and forced. Two Christmases later she was in JRC and her parents were dead. There were no more Christmases after that. It was little wonder her spirit finally collapsed.

V reached for the remote and Evey realized the film had ended. He changed the disc and started "It's a Wonderful Life".

"I love this movie." She said quietly as the opening credits rolled past.

"Am I correct this is the film where a child says, 'every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings'?"

"You are. You've seen it?" Evey asked shifting so she could see him.

His hand drifted over her cheek when he replied, "I don't believe I have."

The movie started as Evey explained, "This was my dad's favorite film. He liked to think he had an angel. Of course, he told us that was our mum. Andrew took it literally and asked mum where her wings were."

"I'm sorry, Evey."

She mimicked his gesture and let her hand brush his cheek. He hesitated for a second and then his own hand moved to her throat, lightly tickling down to her clavicle. Leaning into his touch she tried to reassure him. "It's okay. Now my mum _is_ an angel. So are dad and Andrew. They watch over me."

He said nothing, but withdrew his hand.

Evey sighed. "You can't keep blaming yourself, V."

"No." He shook his head and she didn't know whether he was agreeing with her or resisting her.

"Are you okay?"

He shifted further away, sitting up on the couch with both feet on the floor. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. He was facing the television, but she knew he wasn't watching it.

"Do you suppose they think I am an angel?" He asked quietly.

"What?" His voice was so low she wasn't sure she heard him correctly.

"My…family. Do they think I watch over them?"

He had never mentioned his family before. Not once. While she groped for something to say he stood and walked toward his rubber room.

VEV

It was like déjà vu. Again he sat on the floor in the dark. Again Evey stood in the light of the doorway. She moved toward him and he knew she would sit beside him, close but not touching. He wanted her to leave him be for a while but it was pointless to ask.

After a while she took his hand and without looking at him asked, "Do you want to find them, V?"

"I am not the child they lost anymore. He died." _I killed him_, he silently admitted. It must have been necessary. Whoever he had been could not have been strong enough to face what eventually came.

"If Andrew walked through that door right now I wouldn't recognized him and you know what? It wouldn't matter what he looked like, why he was gone or what he had become. I would give anything to have him back."

"I know you would." _But it would be different with me. _

She read his mind asking, "Do you think it's any different for the people who love you?"

_Yes_, he wanted to tell her but he knew where the conversation would go and he didn't want to make the journey. Instead of focusing on the life he lost he needed to develop the life he had. To save them both he changed the subject, "Is it time for gifts yet?"

Evey glanced away and he was certain she was considering pushing the issue, but then she stood and offered him a hand up. "Sure. Come on."

VEV

_We are staying in the present by opening presents._ She led him back into the main room and settled by the tree in front of a gift she hoped he would let her have early. She patted the floor next to her. "Come on."

After he was seated she continued, "Okay, want to hear the rules?"

"There are rules?"

She nodded. "Here is how it works: each of us gets one gift and one veto. If I pick something you don't want me to have until tomorrow you can veto it. The next one I pick is the one I get to open and you just have to live with it. Got it?"

"Yes. Choose."

There were two jewelry boxes under the tree. They were identical in size and shape, only the wrapping paper was different. One was teal and the other violet. She picked up the violet box and shook it listening to something small rattle inside it. "Okay. I want this one."

V immediately plucked it from her hand and put it back under the tree. "Something else if you please."

Evey smiled and reached for the teal box. "Are you sure? My other choice is this one."

He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

She tore off the paper like a greedy five year old and cracked open the black velvet box. Sitting in the middle was perfectly round black pearl the size of a marble. "Oh my God."

Gently she lifted the pearl out and discovered it was attached to a long chain of what she assumed was platinum. Dangling it from her fingers she gushed, "V this is beautiful. I absolutely love it."

He reached out and took it from her. As he undid the clasp he asked, "Do you know how pearls are made?"

"An oyster gets a bit of sand in it and makes a pearl." Evey said as she watched the pearl descend until it rested on her chest right where cleavage should have been. _There should be breasts there. You need to put on a few pounds and have a shape. You look like a pre-teen boy for heavens sake._

"It takes years of suffering on behalf of the oyster to make one of this size. It seems a cruel irony that such beauty can only be achieved through so much torment." He sat back on his heals and continued, "The pain passes, but the beauty remains." (26)

"I will never take this off." Evey said, understanding the pearl was a representation of himself. He was giving her his pain because she saw it as beautiful.

"Pearls are fragile. They must be the last thing you put on and the first you take off when you wear them." V reached out and touched the pearl allowing his fingers to linger for a moment on her skin.

"I love it. Thank you." She said, as she clutched his hand to her chest over the pearl. "I promise to take good care of it." _And of you. _

Looking at the presents instead of V because she thought if she did look at him she might cry, Evey realized she had made a serious mistake. Wishing she had time to redo her shopping she mumbled, "I feel really stupid now."

"Why?"

"I didn't get you anything like this." _Why did you buy so many stupid things? What were you thinking? He brings you pearls and you give him ridiculous aprons and tacky boxers. Nothing says I love you quite like ugly undergarments. Idiot!_

"I have no need for pearls." V brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, which to Evey was remarkably romantic.

Suppressing the urge to grab him by the mask and stick her tongue down his throat she quipped, "Good because you aren't getting any. It's your turn to pick."

V withdrew his hand and regarded the pile. "You do it for me."

"That isn't how the game works. You have to pick something."

"Evey, I'd really rather not. You choose."

She could feel him retreating but could not understand why. "V…"

"Please, Evey." He cut her off, head down, lips pursed.

Though she knew she should let it go and just grab something she felt compelled to tell him, "There's no right or wrong choice."

There was a long pause during which Evey grew fairly certain he was going to run away again. _Why do you always have to push him? Can't ever leave the poor man alone can you?_

Finally he broke the silence. "I have never received a gift before, Evey. I understand the game and will happily play it next year, but this time…please, Evey."

"Oh, I'm sorry." _Great, now you've done it. On top of being an insensitive dolt, you went for gag gifts. Brilliant, Evey, truly genius. Shit. Shit. Shit._

Considering the presents she had bought for him she tried to find one that wasn't completely absurd. All of them were silly. Finally she picked up a package that looked like a shirt box wrapped in red foil. She handed it to him. "Here. It isn't a pearl, but I hope you like it anyway."

V unwrapped it carefully calling to mind Evey's grandmother who had always wanted to save the paper. Skin crawling at the painfully slow progress he was making she had an urge to rip if out of his hands and open it herself.

When he finally opened the box and pulled out a lace covered, bright pink, floral apron he laughed, "Are you making a commentary on my fashion sense, my love?"

"Just appealing to your fancy for brightly colored kitchen wear." Evey smiled back relieved that he liked her gift.

"Now I shall have to cook you something."

"Make me breakfast. I'm tired."

VEV

(24) George Eliot – Middlemarch

(25) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – The Stark Munro Letters

(26) Pierre Auguste Renior

* * *

**Next: Christmas! Thanks for reading and reviewing. I enjoy hearing from you!**


	22. Chapter 22

**I am sorry for taking sooooo long to update. I take the MCAT exam August 9th and am studying like a mad woman so I can become a doctor. Seems ridiculous one test can decide such a thing, but it can and it does. There will be another HUGE gap between now and the next installment. **

* * *

V could not sleep. Neither could Evey though she was putting in a valiant effort pretending she was. She had promised not to molest him and he had not yet found the words to tell her he would not mind if she did. _Courage man, how hard can it be?_

He sighed and rolled over onto his back. It was no use. He suffered from a strange mix of idealism and pragmatism which was often very useful, but lately left him planning perfection while second guessing himself.

Too many books, too much unwanted advice, it was all too much. Perfection was impossible, but settling for less was intolerable. _It is only the opening salvo. One tiny move is all you have to make, _he told himself only to instantly rebut, _it sets the tone. It must be perfect._

_Just touch her, it might not be perfect but it's all you need._ Instead he said her name.

"Hmm?" She pretended to wake and in V's opinion did it beautifully. She turned on her side, raised up on an elbow with her face hovered above him, lips mere inches away.

Her gaze was steady and sure. He could not hold it and glanced away, his eyes landed on her chest. The camisole had shifted and one of her nipples was exposed. _Dear God._

He was awash in a sea of contradiction. What he wanted, what he did not want, possibilities and problems, worries and hopes. He was dying of anticipation and yet very far from ready. He had done the wrong thing.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"I'm fine." _A fine liar_, _you mean. _

"You don't sound fine."

"I…" He forgot what he was saying when she shifted against him.

Her lips descended closer. "Do you want to kiss me, V?"

There was a hairs breadth between them. It was insane, truly the most stupid blunder in the universe, but the distance was too great. All he had to do was lift his head and her lips would be his. "Yes, I do."

"So why aren't you?" She voiced the question he was currently asking himself.

There were so many available answers, so much he needed to say but knew he should not. He offered the obvious in lieu of the truth. "You were pretending to be asleep. It seemed rude."

She looked puzzled and his hand drifted to her cheek, pushing back imaginary ringlets as if he needed a better look at her face and immediately remembered cutting her hair. Then as now, he had wanted to run his fingers through it and bask in the luxury of her honey brown curls.

Instead he ran clippers over her scalp. She cried when he shaved her head. He held back his own tears until later when he was picking up the remnants of her hair. He felt like crying again.

"I'm not sleeping now." She whispered.

He didn't notice. Still lost in the memory he said, "I'm sorry about your hair, Evey."

She pulled back a little. "You don't like it short?"

"No…I…"

"I'm growing it out again." She cut him off, running a hand self consciously over her shorn scalp.

It felt like more than the moment was lost. Trying to recover he said, "You are beautiful no matter the length of your hair. You are that rare creature as lovely on the inside as the outside."

She brought her lips extremely close to his, and unwittingly struck a killer blow whispering, "Good save, V. There's nothing like flattery to take a girl's mind off having her head shaved."

He turned away, unable to exonerate himself. "I deeply regret having done so."

"I know. It's okay." She let her hand drift over his masked cheek reminding him of his cowardliness.

When he could not respond she sighed, "You know, the sooner we fall asleep the sooner we can wake up and open the rest of the presents."

She turned over and away, her back to him barely touching his arm. Within minutes she was asleep.

V climbed out of bed.

VEV

Evey dreamed of gunfire and black bags. Once again imprisoned and facing death she was presented with a choice. She could either have the freedom of England or she could have a life with V.

She woke panicked and alone which seemed far too much like an answer.

When faced with the same consideration V had chosen duty over love. Fate had intervened for him and in the end gave him what he had denied himself. Would God give her the same reward? She doubted it.

She would have to balance. So far she had not done a very good job.

V was not helping. He resisted everything. Absolutely everything. Feeling grouchy and aware Christmas was not the day to be angry she tried to adjust her attitude, but it proved hard to be happy when the person closest to her was so obviously miserable. Aloud she said, "I'm determined to be happy which means you have to _get_ happy. How do I do it?"

"Do what?" came from the vicinity of the door.

"Make you happy." She replied to her backlit paramour.

He stepped into the room and handed her a cup of coffee as he sat beside her on the bed. "I am."

_Lying liar_, she thought recalling a phrase she and her brother had batted about when they were kids. Aloud she said, "Lying liar."

His back stiffened and she knew she had wounded his sense of integrity. His words were clipped when he said, "Perhaps you should define happiness for me, Evey, so I will know if how I feel suffices."

"I'm sorry." _Way to start a fight. Good job._ She tried to come up with an answer to diffuse the moment while taking a sip of her coffee. He had made it just the way she liked it with a little cream and a lot of sugar. She should thank him and let the subject of happiness drop.

"What makes you so sure I'm unhappy?" He asked in a softer tone, apparently not wanting to argue either.

"If you're so happy why are you still sabotaging yourself? Like last night with the comment about my hair. If ever there was a mood killer that was it, V."

"I didn't mean to…"

"Oh yes you did." She countered and then changed gears. "Don't you get it? In three days, just three, everything you hoped to do will be done. Norsefire will be a ruin and all of us will be free again. _You_ made this possible so I don't understand what you feel so guilty about anymore."

He didn't say a word which meant he disagreed.

"Maybe you feel guilty for not seeing it through?" She asked him, knowing she was making things worse but unable to hold the question back anymore.

He still said nothing but his posture went rigid and she knew what might have passed as an uncomfortable conversation had just become a battle.

She tried to rein herself in and salvage the day. "I don't know what's gotten into me this morning. What I am trying so unsuccessfully to say is if you would help me, I wouldn't be so insecure and you wouldn't feel so guilty."

"We have already discussed this." He stood up and started toward the door.

"I think we need to discuss it again."

He turned and she could feel his chilly blue eyes on her though all she could see was crossed arms and lips in a thin line.

Posture told her he was no longer listening to her which served only to upset her more. Pulling a page from a disagreement she had recently had with her fellow revolutionaries she scuttled the day saying, "Here's a quote for you: the country is the real thing, the substantial thing, the eternal thing; it is the thing to watch over, and care for, and be loyal to. (28) Mark Twain said that. Stupid bloody Americans didn't listen to him. Will you?"

"My part is already played." He replied and she knew he was thinking about the death he should have had.

"So you leave the fate of the nation in the hands of a twenty-five-year-old girl with no education, no training and no guidance. I thought you were smarter than that!"

"And I thought we were arguing about not having sex last night!" He snarled as he stalked out slamming the door behind him.

VEV

V leaned heavily against the counter in the kitchen and took several deep breaths willing his anger back into its box. _You should be dead,_ he told himself. _You should not be here for her to lean upon. Her world will become your world and your world cannot exist. _

He had envisioned anarchy often. Each person self governed, no central authority, no ruling body, no corruption. For twenty years he had fought for what he hoped might happen and ignored what probably would.

She meant well. They all did. For a time it would be better, but as the generations who had lived through the black bags and oppression died off, corruption would regain its finger hold and before long strangle England again. It was a cycle history had taught him to expect. _Don't do this. It's not futile to hope for a better future. People can be greater than you imagine them. Look at Evey. She is more than you ever thought possible. _

He had faith in her though he realized he was actively undermining her belief in herself. His self doubt was breeding insecurities in her. _An insecure leader becomes a tyrant_, he reminded himself. _Growth and change are joined, fearing the latter impedes the former._

Change had already been visited upon him but growth had yet to occur. _I am afraid_, he admitted to himself. _Growing frightens me._

VEV

Evey stayed in bed for a long time. She was angry, sad, frustrated, confused and sorry all at the same time. Overshadowing all emotion was hopelessness. There was nothing she could do.

She was a cog in a wheel, not the engine of anything. Her relationship was out of her hands and the harder she tried to direct it the more off course it went. The apparent leader of a revolution, she was hiding underground while others did the fighting. She was poster child for many things, but leader of none of them.

There was nothing she could do about V. He remained oblivious and frightened. No matter how she tried, she could not make him see reason. God knew she would not give up, but the distress of loving someone who could not accept it was crushing.

She was the only one who knew what V had hoped to create, but she was shunted away underground for her own safety. They would tell her what was happening and what to say to encourage the people to believe in the new era in front of them. Whether or not her advisors were truthful, she could not know. She was operating on blind faith.

The need to reconnect gnawed at her and she retrieved her mobile and walked around the Gallery until she had a weak signal. When Finch answered the first thing he said to her was, "Happy Christmas."

There was nothing joyful about it to Evey. "I guess."

"Are you alright?"

_No, I am not alright. I am anything but alright. _"Yeah, I'm fine. Is everything still on track?"

"We're all set to go. You will be contacted the moment it does down. We need you to be ready to speak immediately. Any idea what you're going to say?"

In one sentence she was reminded her compatriots were allowing her to speak as she chose. It meant they were following her lead, which meant these people honored V's wishes. She had been worrying about nothing. Bolstered, she told him, "I have some notes. Some of it will depend on the day you know."

"We need to test the link and make sure you can broadcast from there. The window for trouble shooting it is pretty narrow. Do you have everything set up yet?"

"Nearly." She lied. V had brought her things in, but everything was still sitting on the floor in her room. They told her it was a very easy installation. A laptop, a camera and an antenna on the roof and she was all set.

"Evey, we're counting on you." Finch sounded like he was scolding her and it made her feel better, more in control.

"I know. Everything will be ready, Eric. I'm on it, alright?" She said.

"Today at four o'clock. Call this number," Eric gave her the number for Monroe their tech-guru. "He'll establish the link and we'll be all set."

"Okay." Evey replied worrying she would not get things set up in time. She wasn't sure V would help her and the lift was still broken.

"I have to go. I'll talk with you later." Finch hung up.

She immediately climbed out of bed and hurried to her room to get started.

VEV

"Evey, I…what are you doing?" V asked from the door to her bedroom. His reason for being there was two fold. First, he was checking to make sure she was not packing to leave again. Second, he planned to apologize for their fight earlier. His pursuit of perfection was scarring everything and though he doubted he could make her understand he hoped having it off his chest would enable him to seek acceptable rather than ideal.

"I have to get this stupid computer to hook up with this bloody camera somehow using these things." She held up several cables. "I have to set up an antenna," she held up a collapsible gray contraption that looked like an inside out umbrella. "And then I have to record something using software on this," she held up a disc, "and I have to make it all work by four."

"I see." V said as he stepped into the room and knelt beside her, forgetting for the moment his purpose in visiting her. The equipment was old wired stuff V assumed was chosen because someone thought it was safer than the more common wireless equipment Norsefire monitored so carefully. He was not impressed. If she used it they would have Fingermen in the Gallery within the hour.

"You don't have internet access and I have to test the broadcast capability and make sure I can do my job from here. I told them I could. Now I need to prove it." She turned the page on a handwritten set of instructions and blew a puff of air that would have ruffled her hair if she had any. "Did you fix the lift yet? I have to set up the antenna."

"I will do it today," V promised, though it was not broken and there was no need for an antenna on the building. He felt like slapping himself. He had neglected giving her a tour of his…their…home. His equipment was tried, true and untraceable. She would be angry when he showed her, but she already was and adding to it would not make his day any worse.

"Aren't there wireless contraptions that would work?" She mumbled as she tried to untangle a single wire from the snarl in her lap, "Damn it, I can't do this. I'm technologically challenged. You're the genius in this house. Will you please help me?"

"Come with me, Evey." V stood and held out his hand. It was time to show her the brain of his home and face the consequences for not showing it to her earlier.

She looked at his hand but did not take it. "V, I don't have time for another one of your games. Please just help, will you?"

"I would never waste your time, love."

She turned her full attention on him and her gaze was heavy with unspoken hurt. He willed himself not to turn away while silently asking her to take his hand. After what felt like far too long, she did and he pulled her up easily reminding himself of her impossibly light weight. He needed to do a better job feeding her.

She did not let go of his hand as he led her down the hallway past his room, past his gallery/studio to a large Caravaggio canvas. Carefully he pulled on the frame and the painting came away from the wall revealing a large opening.

"You and your secret doors." She shook her head.

He gestured for her to precede him through the door, but she didn't move instead saying, "I thought you didn't want to help."

"This would have been yours regardless." He replied, squeezing her hand attempting to reassure her.

"You mean if you had died." She accused, withdrawing her hand.

He needed to stop referencing his death. To him it was an event on the timeline of his life, something pivotal to them both and worthy of noting when applicable, but she hated it. To her it sounded like he was lamenting having missed it. As she stepped through the door without his assistance he tried to explain, "Yes, but…"

"Oh my God." Evey whispered as she stepped into the nerve center of his home. She turned a slow circle taking in a wall of monitors, a huge table with maps and blue prints strewn over it, a bank of servers, and shelves of gadgetry. Turning her eyes on him she sounded amazed as she said, "This is how you did it. How you knew what they were doing."

"Yes." He could not keep the note of pride out of his voice, but he could also see her anger building and he braced for it.

"Do you have any idea how helpful this would have been to our cause these past weeks?" She asked with her arms crossed over her chest.

Half of him wanted to offer excuses. Between gunshot wounds, temporary insanity and learning to trust, he had honestly not thought of it. Not even when he had been watching her at dinner with Finch. The other half knew he was supposed to apologize and that was what he did. "Retrospectively, yes. I'm sorry, Evey."

She sat down in his great leather chair before the wall of monitors and was quiet for a moment. There was only one chair in the room and though it was huge, encroaching on her personal space seemed wrong given her anger. He stayed by the door waiting for her to engage him.

"You had to go to BTN to broadcast." She said, clearly not appreciating the true scope of his computer room.

Smiling proudly he said, "No, I could have done it from here."

She swiveled the chair around to face him and her expression was curious. "Then why did you risk it?"

He stepped into the room and leaned against the server cage. "If a man in a Guy Fawkes mask could stroll into the seat of Norsefire power and use their propaganda system against them what more might be possible? Might I be able to keep my word? If I did, might _we_ be strong enough to overthrow them?" he shrugged. "It was necessary."

She gestured to him to join her and scooted over so he could sit beside her. As soon as he squeezed in she swiveled the chair around and poised her hands over the keyboard asking, "So how does all this work?"

VEV

In a matter of minutes V had shown her how to use the digital recorder, how to link to Monroe, and how to independently (and more securely) uplink to the emergency network.

V read her thoughts and patted her hand saying, "Don't worry. I will help you this afternoon."

"You will? What changed?" She was perplexed.

He withdrew his hand back into his lap and assumed the posture Evey associated with earnestness. It meant he was going to tell her something she didn't want to hear and he wasn't sure she would understand. "I will help you as I can Evey, but you must understand. What I said at the train I meant. It's not my place to shape the future. What is to come must be molded by you and the people you choose to advise you."

"But I want _you_ to advise me, V." It sounded like whining, but in matters of politics no one's advice meant more. She was ill equipped and under prepared. V was the master in this arena and she had not had enough time in his tutelage.

He chided, "We must be grateful for that which providence provides us."

"You don't have to tell me what to do, but you could let me bounce ideas off of you and tell me when I'm being silly like you used to. Is that too much to ask?" In her opinion it wasn't.

"You are not my instrument."

"That's debatable." She quipped, a reminder of how he had made her exactly that sat on the tip of her tongue waiting to be released.

He sighed and his head turned away. She almost felt bad, but he had been the one to bring it up when he mentioned cutting her hair.

"I don't want to fight anymore. I will be your sounding board, but I will not be your advisor. The past has left me too jaded to be of much use in that capacity," He turned back to her. "But I have faith in you. If things had gone according to my plan..."

"Fine, okay. I get it." Leaning her head on his shoulder she took down her tone and admitted, "I had the most horrible dream last night and I'm feeling frightened and out of control and I'm projecting that onto you. I'm sorry."

He leaned his head on hers. "It's my fault. I have been foolish. I have sought the impossible and punished you when I did not achieve it."

Unable to think of anything else to say she told him what she most often told herself, "Everything is going to work out you know."

V nodded and she knew he was fighting to believe it. Finally, he asked, "Would you like to get on with Christmas?"

VEV

In the kitchen, V put on his new apron. He enjoyed the juxtaposition of the silly against the somber and his old apron had been a wonderful little amusement. This one was even more amusing since Evey provided it.

When he looked at her she was smiling. Glad they were no longer fighting and hoping to reinforce the lightness of the moment he turned a circle and curtsied. "For your amusement and pleasure, madam."

"I'm glad you like it. The moment I saw it I knew it was you." She replied still smiling.

"Then I am a most silly man indeed."

"Or at least one with a fantastic sense of humor." She complimented. "What culinary masterpiece are you making for me today?"

"Frittata all sardegnola." When she cocked her head at him he clarified, "A sort of baked omelet. Very good."

"Sounds delicious."

She hopped up onto a kitchen stool and watched as he prepared breakfast. He worked in silence because he wasn't sure what to say. Almost everything that popped into his mind would result in another argument.

She broke the silence when he put the frittata in the oven. "Did I tell you today I love you?"

"You have now." A warm feeling spread through him and he passed out of the kitchen and put his arms around her. With his cheek resting on the top of her head he said, "I love you too."

"Prove it." She challenged turning her face up toward him. Her eyes closed and her lips parted slightly in invitation.

Nervousness sprang to life in his belly as fire ignited in his blood and he put his lips to hers before thoughts of perfection could stop him.

Her hand drifted up to the back of his head as she pulled him down giving herself better access. She deepened the kiss and he pulled her tight against him unconcerned with anything other than being closer to her.

When she broke away he was not ready.

"I could kiss you all day." She whispered at his throat.

"You have my permission to try." He said, surprising himself with how bold he sounded.

She smiled and reached up reconnecting with him. Somehow they made it to the couch and she kept kissing him, her hands beginning to grow bolder, running over his second skin reminding him of what she could do and had done to him.

Time lost its meaning, if it ever had any, and he wanted to let go. He wanted to give in and succumb completely. If only he could turn off his mind, stop thinking, stop worrying. He wanted to touch her in inappropriate places and had nearly convinced himself she wouldn't mind when she put a hand on his cheek and pulled away. "I'm sorry."

"Pardon?" V stuttered as everything he feared seemed to become reality. He was on top of her, holding her down…against her will? _Oh God. Oh God. Oh God…_

He immediately pushed off of her offering mumbled apologies. A black tide of self hatred swept over him as whatever remained of his honor leaked away.

She sat up and patted the seat beside her. "Sit down, V. It's okay. I made a mistake, not you. It's okay."

Slowly his body unfolded and he sank into the seat beside her.

"You didn't do anything wrong, stop beating yourself up. I said I could kiss you all day, but I also said I wouldn't molest you. Now I have…again. I know what you're going to say. You don't mind. But I mind, V. I keep saying a lot of things I mean, but don't mean, do you know what I mean?" She said as she collected herself into a little ball next to him with her knees at her chest.

After a long silence as he tried to reconcile what he perceived and what she said she tried to explain, "I don't know what to do, V. I really don't. I keep thinking we are going to reach a place where we understand each other and can talk about anything, but we are nowhere near that are we? I mean we can't even communicate without arguing these days."

"I don't know." He replied, wondering if this was how it finally ended.

"We keep coming back to trust, you know that?" She put a hand on his arm and he knew she wanted him to look at her, but he could not. She continued, "I think our big problem now isn't a lack of trust in each other but a lack of trust in ourselves. Does that make sense?"

He nodded, feeling exactly as she described. He was the danger, he was the predator, the monster, the reason there was no hope.

"I am constantly second guessing myself. Ever since you told me the truth I can't make a decision and stick to it. I come up with so many reasons why I am doing the wrong thing, it's totally ridiculous but I'm doing it. I always think I'm the one hurting you, not the other way around like you suppose it."

He disagreed, but she spoke first. "I don't know what to say to you. That's the problem. I talk to you like I would anyone else and then remember you don't have the context for it and then I start thinking of all the ways you could mistake what I mean."

"I see." He said. Without context how could he ever understand her? Twenty years of trying had not yielded a single usable memory. He could not change things. "You present an irreconcilable problem, Evey."

"You don't give up that easily." She chided.

"What would you have me do? You've said nothing I can refute." The moment he said it, his spirit resisted reminding him, _we create our own truths when we have none, we rise above and we restore what was taken. We do not lose, not anymore, not ever again._

She sighed. "Then I don't know what to do."

"Perhaps we should get on with Christmas." He offered, not ready to give up but not wanting to think about it either.

VEV

Evey had finally found the courage to speak her biggest fear and the moment it left her lips she felt lighter. Neither of them could fix it alone, God knew each had been trying. Perhaps together they could.

He had his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. _Sad but thinking_, she told herself. Aloud she said, "I love you."

He was quiet for a while and then stood up and said, "Evey, let's get on with the day."

He moved to the tree and pulled a package from under it. He handed it to her and sat cross-legged on the floor between the couch and the tree.

"I love you." She said again.

"Yes." He said, and she wasn't sure if he was agreeing she loved him or too overloaded to deal with it.

Slipping onto her knees beside him she pulled off the wrapping paper and opened the box revealing a deep violet, cashmere jumper.

Leaning against him she wrapped her arms around his neck and draped the jumper over his back. Close to his ear she whispered, "Thank you."

He reached around her and pulled another present from the pile.

It was the first indication he might be angry. It only took seconds to come up with a list of things she had said or done to make him cross. "V, I'm sorry. I've doing a bang up job of ruining Christmas, aren't I? Please don't be angry."

"I'm not." He said and she felt sure he was lying.

"Are you sure?"

He sighed, "I'm not made of glass, Evey. You can't break me."

She wasn't so sure and almost pointed out how often he had fallen apart lately. His confidence had all the strength of a butterfly wing and crumbled under the slightest touch. Instead she laid the blame at her own feet. "I know, but I do have hoof in mouth disease, don't you think?"

"I wish you wouldn't." He said and she knew he saw right through her. He pushed another present at her.

Accepting the gift and turning it in her hands she said, "If we do this one at a time we will be here all day. Let's separate them into piles and go for it. What do you think?"

"As you wish." He replied and began separating out the gifts he had wrapped and piling them neatly near her.

Crawling to the tree Evey joined in the piling effort and stacked his presents on the floor beside him. Still feeling foolish for the gifts she bought him when she compared them to the two she had already opened, she handed him a package and prayed he would find it funny.

He opened the box much faster than he had the night previous and laughed out loud as he pulled out a pair of acid green boxers with neon yellow smiley faces all over them. "My fashion sense must be bad indeed to warrant these!"

She smiled, relieved.

He leaned over and kissed her. "They are terribly amusing. I will wear them. Thank you."

Evey didn't pay much attention to her own gifts, delighting instead in V's mirth as he opened each package. He enjoyed the silly socks, the second apron that said 'kiss the cook' on it, the fuzzy bunny slippers, the Guy Fawkes bobble head doll she found in the back corner of a pawn shop, the DVD collection of Marx Brothers films, the sippy straws with cartoon characters on them which were completely irrelevant now that his lips weren't hidden anymore.

He laughed outright at the plastic light saber she had bought to accompany banned copies of the Star Wars films she had found in the vast pile of media in her room.

As he shook out the collapsible 'blade' she said, "For midnight swordplay."

He smiled, "I believe I shall have great fun with this."

The next package contained white boxers with a bull's eye on the front. When he opened the box and pulled them out he almost immediately put them back. Had he not been covered over in black, she was sure he would be bright red.

"Aren't you even the least bit interested in your own presents?" He asked in what she believed was a ploy to focus her attention elsewhere.

"I was really enjoying yours." She winked at him and his head dipped away. The last one really was terrible. She almost wished she hadn't bought it. "V, I don't think you want that one. Not now anyway. By the time I bought it I was on a roll and it was downhill all the way." _Straight into the gutter. _

"As you wish."

He handed it her without any hesitation. She put the package on the ground behind her back.

He moved closer and lifted a large silver box. Holding it in front of her he said, "I couldn't resist this."

Inside was a pile of blood red velvet. When she pulled it out she discovered it was a long coat lined with turquoise silk. "Wow."

"It's Japanese. The lining is kimono fabric, hand painted, utterly gorgeous. It had to be yours."

"I _love_ this!" She exclaimed draping the rich velvet over her shoulders.

V's hand drifted down her arm and she leaned over and pecked his cheek. "You are wonderful, do you know that?"

His arm wrapped around her back and he pulled her into his lap. She leaned back against his chest so he could see over her shoulder.

Everything he gave her was beautiful. In addition to the purple jumper, and the coat there were several dresses, shoes, books, movies and two more pieces of jewelry. All of it was elegant, tasteful and expensive.

Something was missing though. "Where is the little purple box? I haven't forgotten it."

"That one is for dinner."

"It's edible then, is it?" She teased, unable to resist correcting him the way he had once corrected her.

He smiled and shook his head. "Perhaps after dinner then."

VEV

(27) William Shakespeare - Love's Labour's Lost

(28) Mark Twain – A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

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**Thanks for sticking with me and nagging me as you have. I fear this is not my best chapter, but it's all my overworked brain could come up with. Cheers, Free**


	23. Chapter 23

Finally, right? I am sorry it took me so long to update, but I have been really busy with real life lately. For those who care, the MCAT kicked my ass and I did not get into medical school. I am okay with this. I did get into nursing school which is starting in May. So be happy for me, I am.

Anyway, I think there is only one maybe two chapters left of this which I know I have said many times, but in this case is really true. 

Per the usual, I own nothing from V for Vendetta and am writing for personal entertainment only.

Thank you sooooo much to those of you who have kept after me to finish. I do need to be pushed sometimes and I am grateful to you. Thanks to all who have reviewed and offered me critique and encouragement. Cheers, Free

* * *

**Chapter 23**

At four o'clock Evey made contact with Finch. She read portions of her speech and figured out where to stand and the best way to light herself. She let Monroe confirm the security of the connection and allowed him to take credit for creating it. It made her smile listening to him toot his own horn over the invisibility of the link. 

When the meeting ended it was after six, but Evey felt better. Everything was under control and proceeding as planned. She was ready to do her part and eager to get on with it. 

Unable to contain her excitement she went looking for V and found him as she stepped out from behind the Caravaggio. His posture read guilty, like she had caught him in the act of something.

"What are you up to?" She asked, letting her eyes travel over him. He was wearing the bunny slippers.

"Nothing." His said as she giggled and pointed at his feet so he would know what was funny. He smirked and straightened up. "Are you finished?"

She stopped the giggles, but could not get rid of her smile. "Yep. All done for today. More tomorrow. You know how it goes."

V nodded. "Indeed. Then shall we get on with Christmas?"

He held out a hand.

"That's right. There is a purple box with my name on it somewhere." She remembered as she clasped his hand.

"Of course. Would you follow me please?"

"You fixed the lift." Evey said realizing where they were going.

He gave nothing away shrugging, "No."

Then I don't…get it." Turning the corner she saw a gold wrapped package sitting on the bench next to the lift. 

V dropped her hand and reached for the package saying, "For you."

The gift was heavy. When Evey had torn the paper off and opened the box she was greeted by a ream of vellum paper and an ornate fountain pen. She knew instantly it was a gift like the train. "I don't understand."

"Your father was a writer. I thought it might run in the family."

"No. I mean this is not small and it is not purple." She said putting the lid back on the box while wishing she could give it back. This gift had strings attached.

V shook his head looking pleased with himself. "The violet one is for later."

"Oh, right because it's not after dinner yet."

He held out his arm like a gallant. "Shall we eat then, my dear?"

"You're…" _torturing me_, she almost said, taking his arm with one hand and juggling her present with the other. "This is a lot of paper, V."

He looked down at her, unreadable as always. "It's a long story, is it not?"

"What?" She let go of his arm.

He folded himself onto the bench by the lift, body language professing patience. "Some stories must be told."

"You have got to be joking." Evey muttered, feeling blindsided. 

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Wouldn't that be lovely, but no. I'm not. Far from it."

"Then what was the point of all this?" She gestured back toward the Shadow Gallery. "Why do you keep secr…did you wait to tell me about Larkhill until…I don't understand."

"Fate often puts all the material for happiness and prosperity into a man's hands just to see how miserable he can make himself with them." (29)

He was quoting again. "Pardon me?"

"You were right. What is lacking is not faith in you, that I have in abundance, instead I have no faith in me."

"I know." She had recently said this.

He spread his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. "Thus I am faced with a conundrum. To have what I want I must do what I fear. I must pull from the shadows that which I wish to hide."

She sat behind him, needing him to know she supported him. "You already did, V. It was very brave of you."

V's head shook and there was an edge to his voice when he said, "There is no bravery in leaping over self imposed hurdles and you miss the point. The people deserve to know what has happened to them. I owe them that."

"But you want _me_ to do it." Evey was dangerously close to whining.

"As I cannot write it myself, for reasons we no longer discuss, I have no choice but leave it to you." V took her hand, absently rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

Evey did not want to write a book about V or anything else…definitely not about V. She could not voice why she felt so opposed, but every fiber of her being resisted. "And if I refuse?"

V slumped forward resting his forearms on his thighs. His head was down. "Then I do not see how we have a future."

Opposition ignited into incredulity. "What! Is that an ultimatum? What the hell…"

His hands came up in classic it-wasn't-me denial as he said, "No, no, no. I am speaking logistically, living arrangements, money. How do you propose to orchestrate this?"

"What does a book about you have to do with any of this?" She was trying to puzzle her way through what V wanted, but it was proving difficult. He was easily the most private person she had ever met. The absolute last thing she would have expected from him was this.

"You want the flat upstairs do you not?" She nodded and he continued, "It would let for ₤2500 or more. How would it be paid for?"

"You are charging me rent?" Evey asked, angry. She did not understand what V was driving at and she was incensed by what she thought she understood.

V proceeded in a reasonable tone, "You are a public figure, soon to be the most famous woman in the UK. How will you explain your finances to the press?"

"I don't understand."

"I would like nothing more than to give you the flat, but if I pay for it, or if you pay for it with my money, it will be a problem. Every penny I have is stolen. I covered my tracks well, but an industrious reporter…who knows?"

The light was beginning to dawn, but she still resisted. "So I write a book and all our problems are solved?"

His voice was soft as he admitted, "I highly doubt it, but at least the logistical ones would be."

"I don't think I can, V."

"I'll help." He offered.

"No, that's not what I mean." It wasn't that she could not write about him. It was much more than that. "I read Joseph Campbell's _Hero with a Thousand Faces_ and it was all about the archetype of a hero. It doesn't work without a lot of unknowns. People remember legends and fables, they forget facts. What you did can't be forgotten."

V chuckled and Evey knew from his tone he approved of her objection. She also knew he would refute it. "If there are questions about me even I cannot answer, I believe the one thing we are not lacking is mystery, my dear."

"Yeah, but…"

Suddenly he was all seriousness. "I have given this a great deal of thought. It is what I want." 

"Then you do it." She could still not express why she could not do it and hoped he would understand and let the matter drop for a while.

"Thus my proposal is sound, you question only the execution of it."

"V, I have to think about it, okay?"

"Of course." He nodded.

In an effort to end the discomfort Evey tried to refocus V on something she was very curious about. "I've not forgotten the after dinner gift."

"Ah yes. This is for you." He produced the purple Christmas present as if by magic and handed it to her as if he had forgotten they had not eaten yet.

VEV

"You didn't!" she squealed as she ripped away the paper and opened the box. Inside was a key. 

"I did. Come." He stood and offered his hand. She took it tugging him impatiently into the lift.

The ride up felt like it took an eternity. When the door opened she was facing a wall. V pointed up and she saw a small monitor split in sections. "A precaution only."

"Okay." The images on the monitor were too small to see the details of flat clearly. Excited she asked, "How do you get out of here?"

"Push here and the door will open." He showed her and she stepped into a closet. He reached over her shoulder and pushed open the closet door. The view greeting her was one of V's paintings.

"It's beautiful, V." She said recognizing it as the old couple he had sketched in St. James's Park. 

"There is more to see." He stepped out of the closet behind her and guided her toward the entryway. It was large, circular and painted in a calm slate blue.

"If you do not like the color I will repaint, but I simply could not oblige magnolia."

"No, it's beautiful. This place is beautiful. I cannot believe you did this." She turned and faced a large library already loaded with books.

"I hope you don't mind." He said nodding at the loaded shelves.

"They needed a home. I bet you still have millions of them on the floor down there anyway." She smiled, inhaling the scent of old books and new paint.

""The kitchen is this way." He guided her down the hall into a kitchen opening into a living room. She had walked through it many times on her way to the roof but it had always been an ugly, outdated, dirty space. Now it was gorgeous and smelled like Italian food. 

On the counter sat a bottle of wine and two glasses. He had made her dinner in her new home. "How in the world did you find the time to do all of this?"

"You know I love to cook."

"And you know that is not what I meant."

"I had time on my hands." He shrugged, "When you were gone I needed something to do."

"All this in a week? I don't believe it."

"It looks in better shape than it is. The kitchen needs a lot of work, so do the floors. I need to sound proof the elevator shaft and…there is a lot to do still."

"I think it's perfect." Evey said, beaming as she looked around. "Where's our bedroom?"

"In a minute, our meal will be cold if we don't eat now."

VEV

Evey's meal disappeared with eager, overlarge mouthfuls and she finished in record time. He did not try to keep up with her, instead taking his time and having a second glass of wine while she fidgeted in her chair.

"You are doing this deliberately." She finally accused.

"Am I?" He asked amused by her simple joy.

"You're killing me, V."

"Shall we continue our tour?" He rose from his chair.

She did not have to be asked twice, bolting from her chair and nearly sprinting down the hallway yelling at him to hurry as she went.

She went in and out of rooms, smiling and laughing as she opened and closed doors. He caught up to her at the end of the hallway in front of the last door.

"Am I going to like what I find in here?"

"I hope so." V replied as butterflies took flight in his belly. He was at once terrified and excited.

She pushed open the door.

V had thought long and hard about how to go about decorating the room and knew she would find it beautiful. He hoped the room would be able to say what he had not yet found the words for. He hoped it would speak his desire, that it would be the opening move, perfectly understood and accepted. 

Evey lingered in the doorway long enough for V to start worrying before she turned to look at him. There were tears in her eyes. "I cannot imagine anything more beautiful. Come share this with me."

"I've made you cry again." He said reminding himself women often cried when they were happy. Tears did not necessarily mean she was unhappy.

She smiled and stretched a hand to him. "This is joy, silly man. Come here."

Elated, V went and received the kiss he had hoped for. 

"I love you," she whispered when she came up for air. "I truly, deeply, love you, V."

Another damn broke on the inside, but there were no tears. Instead there was a fuzzy feeling tickling from within that finally forced out a laugh.

She pulled back confused. "What's so funny?"

He sang," Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; 'tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home." (30)

"What?" 

"T'was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed. (31)

She looked concerned and he attempted to clarify, "I am quite certain I do not mean it the way Mr. Newton intended."

"I don't understand, V."

"Nor I, but what does it matter?" He kissed her and it felt right, he felt right, whole for the first time he could remember. He could not explain, there were no words for this greatest gift he never dared wish for. 

He broke the kiss, aware he could kiss her again whenever he wished and wondering why it had taken him so long to figure it out. She was looking at him strangely and the only explanation he could offer was, "I love you."

She smiled uncertainly, but he didn't care. He was reveling in the most joyful freedom. It felt light, giddy, like dancing. They should dance.

He swept her into his arms and began to waltz. She followed along with him, looking up, joy and doubt at war on her brow.

He wanted to tell her everything was okay. He had not lost his mind though a huge weight had been taken off of it. But the music in his head had a very solid grip and all he could do was dance. It was not a long piece and as it climaxed he dipped her low feeling her weight against his hand, her total trust in his strength. He would not drop her, never drop her, never hurt her. He held the pose too long, the moment suspended in time, and when he finally lifted her back to her feet she was clearly worried. 

"What's gotten into you?"

"I love you." he replied. 

"Yes, I know. I love you, too. Are you okay?"

"Make love to me, Evey." He said, the words rolling off his tongue with such ease he surprised himself.

VEV

Evey was stunned and waited for him to slap a hand over his mouth and take it back, but he didn't. He stood in front of her, loose and completely at ease. If anything he looked a little eager.

It seemed impossible, too good to be true and too scary not to be real. He had finally cracked. Completely nutters. "Could you repeat that?"

"Make love to me." His voice was calm as if this were the most natural demand he could make.

Evey did not catch up as fast as she would have liked and before she could stop herself she was doubting aloud. "Really? You're sure."

He faltered, "I don't mean to push, I…"

"I'd love to." She cut him off not wanting the moment to be lost. This was what she had wished for.

V's posture straightened back into confidence and he closed the gap between them, putting his lips to hers again. Her arms went around his neck and she wanted to pull off the black mask and touch him. She did not. If he wanted it off, he could remove it.

"May I?" He asked as his fingers tickled at the hem of her T shirt.

She tugged it up and over her head. His hand glided down her back and she realized he was still wearing gloves. Not wanting to shatter his confidence, but also resenting the barrier of gloves, she debated asking him to take them off. 

His touch moved to the small of her back and then over her buttocks to the top of her thigh and she decided he was far enough along that asking him would not ruin the mood. 

"Would you take off your gloves for me?"

"I would do anything for you." He replied, his touch disappearing.

_What in the world is going on here? Did he snap? Is this a different personality? Could that be possible? Multiple personalities, this one created to make me happy? To back me off his pain? Not good, not good. _His hands returned to their place on hips and his lips were a hairs breadth from hers when she said, "V, wait."

He pulled back, head cocked, waiting as she asked.

"Are you sure you're alright because you're acting kind of strange."

He took a deep breath and then sighed. "I think you were right before."

"About what?"

"Happiness. You were right. I didn't know, but I think I do now. I am fairly certain this is…joy. Odd is it not?"

"Really?" She wanted to kick herself for sounding skeptical.

"You gave me this gift, Evey. Were it not for you I would have gone to my grave without knowing this glorious freedom. There is nothing you could have done for me greater than this." The back of his hand, heavily scarred, smooth and rough, drifted down her cheek as if he had always touched her this way. "I thought I freed you, but all along it was I who needed freeing. Thank you for this, for loving me in spite of myself."

"'Wow." Evey exclaimed wishing she could see his eyes. Somehow she knew they were not scary anymore. Her own eyes wept moisture and she was quick to clarify, "These aren't sad tears."

"I know."

The moment stretched as she looked up at him, searching for blue hidden behind black gauze. The smile slowly bled off his lips and she could see the tidal wave of change being pulled back into his sea of despair, but then he reached behind his head and pulled up the zipper on the mask. "I cannot love you and hide from you."

There was a lot of light in the room from the hundreds of candles scattered throughout it and she wondered if he was serious, but the mask pulled forward and then free of his face.

He was absolutely still, not looking at her, letting her look at him and Evey decided it really wasn't as bad as he thought it was. He had a strong jaw and the surgeon who remade his nose had given him a perfectly straight one that fit his face. He had no eyebrows and was bald, but he did have a few scattered lashes. He had ears, again nicely reconstructed ones.

His eyes were not as scary as she remembered them, instead they were the color of north sea ice, mysterious and haunted. She wanted to tell him they were beautiful but knew it would not be taken the way it was meant. 

She reached out and touched his bare cheek and she saw the flinch in his eyes but his body was rock steady. The texture of his skin was abnormal but not terrible, sort of like extremely bad acne scars. "I love this face."

His gaze turned to her, icy and penetrating, studying her, looking for the lie. There wasn't one to find and before long a smile broke out on his face. "Thank God for you, Evey."

"Weren't you going to make love to me? I seem to remember you saying something like that."

He responded by walking her back to the bed. The moment it touched the back of her legs she collapsed down on it, holding onto him and happy when he fell on top of her.

For a split second she thought he would pull away when he shifted his weight and asked, "Are you hurt?"

"No," she whispered, able to see the concern on his face and in his eyes for the first time. She tightened her grip around his back. He let himself be pulled against her and their kiss resumed.

It was not enough. She shifted under him, pulling her trapped leg free so he was between them. He did not miss the invitation, moving his knees outward spreading her legs apart further, but he remained frustratingly polite asking, "Is this alright?"

She ran her hand down his back and over the rise and fall of his ass. Pulling him hard against her she whispered in his ear, "I want more."

He tugged at the hem of her pants. "These are in the way."

"We can fix that." She said, wanting to tell him his were in the way too, but didn't. He had given her his face. It was enough. 

He scooted away from her on the bed giving her room to strip which she did. He watched and she watched him watch finding it amazing to be loved so much. 

When she was nude he blushed, an uneven patchwork of color on his cheeks, saying, "Ah, yes. I suppose I should…"

She cut him off, "What you should do is get back over here. It's cold now I'm naked."

He obliged wrapping her in his arms from behind pulling her tight against his body, "Warmer now?"

"You have no idea." His lips found her throat. 

Reaching behind her she let the back of her hand glide over his abdomen moving lower. "I have had enough foreplay, V."

He let her go and she immediately rolled onto her back, hands at his waist looking for a way into his clothes. 

"This is truly ridiculous." He muttered, squirming out of his shirt while Evey admired the view. Only the texture of his skin was wrong, the muscles beneath it were very nice. He stopped, hands in his lap, and when she looked up to his face he glanced away, "Please don't stare, Evey. I…I know it looks strange and feels even stranger but…"

"If you must know, I was admiring your muscles. When God put you together he did a good job."

"Oh," he muttered, blushing red, which made his skin a kaleidoscope of red and white. "Then the devil had his turn."

"He did his damnedest, but he did not undo God's work, V." She replied feeling confident in her answer. Unconventional to be sure, but not ugly. If V could read her thoughts he would probably quote something about the blindness of love, but that didn't matter. What mattered was this moment and this man. "I'm cold."

"Ah, yes, where were we?"

VEV

It was nothing like the last time, not frantic, not stolen. Not fast, for which V was truly grateful. It was with sublime pleasure that he rolled onto his back and pulled Evey atop himself.

There was silence as he listened to their heart rates slow and still he felt the calm, fuzzy sensation. He did not fight it, preferring to ride along and see where it went. His old friend Shakespeare entered his thoughts and aloud V sang, "It was a lover and his lass, with a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, that o'er the green corn-field did pass, in the spring time, the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: sweet lovers love the spring." (32)

"_As You Like It_." Evey identified the quote with a sigh. Her hair was prickly on his bare chest when she stretched against him. Through a yawn she asked, "Where did you learn to do that?"

His body was putty, but after a second his fingers cooperated and he turned circles on her shoulder. Knowing she wasn't asking about the quote he said, "I don't know."

"Too bad. I owe her a huge thank you." She said through another yawn.

"Me too."

"What changed, V?"

"You love me." He replied.

She lifted her head and looked him in the eye, "I always have."

She did not flinch away from his gaze the way he did in the mirror. She held it, steady and loving. It was more than he had hoped for. "Yes, but I didn't understand until now."

"How did you figure it out?"

"I don't know." He was not able to explain how he came to understand.

She tried again, reframing the question as V had so often done for her to help her sort through her thoughts. "What did you find out?"

"You aren't leaving." 

She went quiet after that, snuggling into his chest, her hair sandpaper against sensitive flesh. Some other time he would ask her to be more gentle. He let his hand drift from her shoulder to her waist marveling at the smooth softness of her skin. He made the inevitable comparison, but for the first time did judge himself a monster. Instead he decided he was simply different, not hideous.

For a long time he drifted with his thoughts, occasionally marveled at his lack of self loathing, and wondering how he had been so blessed.

VEV

"All this can me mine for the price of a book, huh?" Evey asked after a long moment spent curled in V's arms. She wanted to be angry because this was very much like the train. He let her have a taste of the future and then demanded sacrifice. 

He sighed and shifted beneath her. "I want you to have the flat, but you have to be able to legally sustain it. If I could pay for it I would, but what I have was…not acquired by means you could defend in court."

Evey's head came up and she looked at his face. His eyes were at half mast. His apparent lassitude upset her. With more venom than intended she accused, "You stole it."

Blue eyes opened and focused on her, reminding her of the violence he was capable of. He blinked and the anger faded. "Yes, from Viadoxic and a number of other party ventures for which the accounting was shoddy."

"I wish there was another way." Evey said. She wanted to be with him, she needed to be with him, but he kept showing her how impossible it was, how many hurdles separated them. Being together was the only thing that mattered. Whatever it took. "I want to fade into the woodwork when this is over. I just want to be with you."

"And I with you."

"I can't profit from what you've been through, V. I think its evil." 

His head cocked on the pillow and he spoke in his teacher voice. "So historians by the virtue of their work are evil?"

Feeling like a recalcitrant student she squirmed a little. "No, but…"

"Was Yoko Ono evil?"

"Who?"

"The wife of John Lennon who most assuredly profited from her husband's death, was she a terrible person?" Seeing her lack of comprehension he continued, "He was a Beatle. You know their music. I have some in the jukebox. They were the most famous band of the twentieth century."

He hummed a few bars and Evey remembered the song. She had always liked it. However, she knew when he was manipulating her. "You're not dead and this is different."

"Not really." He shook his head.

"But…"

"Films about Patton and McArthur were those exploitative or educational or entertainment?"

"But…"

His hand stroked her cheek and she leaned into the touch watching his eyes as she did. He was watching his fingers trail over her skin and she could see him noting the difference between them, finding himself ugly. His hand fell away and his eyes went over her head to some point behind her. "Whether you write at my prompting, at the clamoring of the public or allow someone else write about you, at some point, your story and subsequently my story will be told. Someone will profit from it as someone must in a free market."

"I don't know what I think." Evey said and she didn't. She felt like his words were one thing but his actions were another. She wondered if he had the guile to use his burns as a way of manipulating her. It bothered her to think he might.

"You don't have to decide now."

* * *

(29)–Don Marquis

(30) & (31) John Newton – Amazing Grace (It was too perfect and though I know it's sacrilegious I had to use it. Please don't hate me.)

(32) William Shakespeare – As You Like It


	24. Chapter 24

**Well folks, my epic tale is finished. This is it. Thanks for coming with me on this little journey!**

* * *

_Evey looks like I did_, V thought as Evey swayed in his arms. They were dancing, a new ritual, the calm before the storm of national gain and possible personal loss.

It was December 28th and Evey was waiting to be told Norsefire had toppled after which she would tell the British people they were safe. She had gone over her speech with him several times and V still wondered what had given him away.

He had not offered a single suggestion and he had held his posture rigidly straight to avoid body language speaking for him. He had worn the Guy Fawkes mask, knowing he did not have to anymore and that Evey hated it. He knew it was a wall she thought had tumbled, and for the most part it had, but not for this.

He would remove it later and things would return to normal, but for now their battles were separate and the wall between them necessary.

Evey was wearing a green dress and V wondered if it was intentionally symbolic. There was a slight floral pattern in the fabric calling to mind spring with its renewal and warmth. She was mother earth, reborn. "You look beautiful."

Evey said nothing as she continued to sway in his arms with her head resting on his shoulder. The slight squeeze of her arms around him was the only answer she gave. His Evey was no longer the frightened fearful wallflower she had been so long ago, before he freed her…_don't think about that_.

Evey had become a lightening rod, attracting power and grounding it, directing deadly energy and making it safe. She had done it at home…their home…and she had done it with the powerful people she had drawn to her cause. V had absolute faith she could do it with a nation.

"What are you thinking?" Evey asked quietly, stepping back to look up at him but still in the circle of V's arms.

"Then must you strive to be worthy of her love. Be brave and pure, fearless to the strong and humble to the weak; and so, whether this love prosper of no, you will have fitted yourself to be honored by a…nation's…love, which is, in sooth, the highest guerdon which a true knight can hope for." (33)

"Quoting again." She chuckled and rested her head again on his shoulder.

"Yes, but only where appropriate." V replied through a smile of his own.

"Everything will be okay."

"Yes." V answered wondering who she was talking to. Perhaps his voice had sounded uncertain or betrayed some fear he was unaware of.

"We will win tonight, I know it."

"Yes." He said again understanding now Evey was reassuring herself, not him. His arms wrapped around her tighter and he cursed the mask which kept him from kissing her.

Evey looked up at him. "Am I being placated?"

"No." V denied, totally confident in everything Evey had said and wanting her to know it. "You are being supported."

She stretched up and kissed the cursed mask. "I love dancing with you."

V pulled her tighter, loving the feel of her tiny body against his. "As do I."

VEV

Evey was swaying in the warm, comforting embrace of the love of her life when the phone rang. V's arms immediately fell away and he stepped back from her, his head slightly down and his hands clasped behind his back.

Guy Fawkes hid his face from her and she hated the mask with every fiber of her being. The phone rang again and V gestured toward where it sat atop the couch back table.

Now was not the time to worry about masks and walls. Evey walked over to the phone, picked it up and flipped it open. "Yes?"

"It's done." Eric Finch's voice, sounding grave.

"It is? You're sure?" Doubt was evident in her voice, but could not be helped. Eric's tone was not what she had expected. She expected joy.

"Mission accomplished. BTN, Buckingham, the Eye, the Ear, and the Finger are secure. Last count we had 57 in custody." He sounded tired.

Evey glanced at V, but he was gone. She turned around wanting to share this moment with him, but he was no longer in the room. Unable to sacrifice the time now, she refocused her attention on Finch and asked the questions necessary to inform the people.

Thirty minutes later she nodded against the phone and said, "Okay."

"Tell them, Evey. It's time." Finch's voice was stronger, more resolute now. He sounded like he had accomplished something great and carried the burden of it.

"I will." Evey promised, overwhelmed by the moment. They had succeeded. All they had worked for, all V had sacrificed for had come to pass. England was free. Her voice was shaky when she spoke again, "Eric? Thank you."

"No, thank you." He hung up.

Turning to the empty room, Evey said, "It's time."

VEV

Evey walked to the Caravaggio and went into the computer room. Inside she pulled the switch to turn everything on and moved back to her mark before the camera. She had five seconds from the time she pulled the switch to when the broadcast began.

The green light she had been waiting for came on and Evey began. "Good evening, London. My name is Evey Hammond and it is my pleasure to inform you that tonight we are once again a free nation."

She paused, allowing the words to sink in before repeating them, "We are free."

"Our former leaders are in custody and will be tried according to the law. The question which logically follows is what law? Who's law?"

"Once, a long time ago, our nation was faced with the same question. Civil war broke out as the English people were divided. It was a religious war, yes, but it was also a war about leadership."

"We learned a lot from the Commonwealth and the Restoration which followed. From Cromwell's Commonwealth came the idea of representative law. People wanted a voice in their government and checks on the power of kings. From the Restoration of Charles II we learned the power of tradition and the need for creativity and free speech."

"In times of fear it's natural to look for a leader, someone who will guide us from our terror and into a place of safety. Fear is the easiest thing to manipulate. To create fear is to take control."

"I am aware you are afraid. I was too, until V showed me how to take back my power by refusing to be afraid. He showed me that when you decide you have nothing left to lose you are at your most powerful and we, all of us, we have nothing left to lose do we?"

"We have given up our freedom to move, to speak, to believe, to learn, and to love. What is left to give up? What is left for the black bags to take? What remains of the people we were?"

"Memories." Evey said, her voice drenched in tears, but strong in spite of her sorrow, the phoenix raised from ashes. "We know who we were. We remember better times. We speak in hushed tones about how things used to be and quietly hope things can go back to how they were before Norsefire told us they knew what we wanted and if we gave up our power to choose they would guide us away from fear. We remained fearful."

"V told us we did not have to live in fear. He pointed out the fear we hoped to avoid by giving up our power was only made worse by our acquiescence." For a moment Evey was back in her cell afraid for her life, but no longer willing to bow to her terror. "He told us if we believed in him, if we could believe in ourselves, we could regain our integrity and our power. V promised a new world…and then he died and it seemed like hope died with him."

A tear slid down her cheek and Evey brushed it away, refusing to give in to sadness. "But V showed us their weakness. No one is more afraid than the dictator himself. He knows how unstable his pedestal is and he knows that one wobble is all it takes for those he rules to realize how vulnerable he is and how truly powerful they are. V understood this and he proved to us all how weak Chancellor Sutler really was."

"V showed me…us the power of hope." A smile lit her face as she remembered her night in the rain when her fear was shed and she roared victory to the fertile sky.

"I know you fear the replacement of one dictator with another. I've worried about it, too, but we have a long and storied history to look to for guidance. As of today an interim government will be operating under the rule of law as established prior to the election of Norsefire. We will be bound to the same code of ethics history has always held us to. The purpose of the interim government is to hold a series of public votes to decide what our permanent government should look like."

"There are huge questions to ask and answer about our future government. Do we want to restore the monarchy? Do we want to restore both houses of Parliament? What criteria do we want to use to choose our leaders? What sort of power should they weald? What districts will they represent and how will those be determined? What laws do we want to keep and which do we want to discard? How do we make sure we never give into fear again?"

"These are not questions I can answer by myself. They're not questions an interim government can answer either. You have to make these decisions."

Though the speech was planned, Evey made an unexpected connection. She had paid lip service to V's refusal to be involved in the future and his insistence on being dead in public if not in private. His intentions were suddenly clear and she spoke her understanding as she thought it. "V did not leave a roadmap for us to follow because he didn't want to be followed. The path he walked was vengeance and he knew he couldn't be our guide into the future because he had none. He knew what he was doing would kill him, but he gladly sacrificed himself to offer us freedom. It is up to us to accept his gift and decide together what the future of our country will be."

She paused, letting the weight of V's gift settle on her listeners as it was on her. When she began again she spoke of the known future. "For the time being we are going to gradually take down the framework of Norsefire. We have to be mindful of the economic impact of this change. This is a time for celebration, not violence and crime. Posted on the interlink is the civil code from 2000 which the interim government will use as its foundation. Please take a look at it and know that even though Norsefire is no longer in control there are still laws. I hope you will stay home with your families and digest this change. I hope you will go to work tomorrow knowing you are free and that you are working not to support a corrupt government but to support your families. I hope you visit the website and understand the current legal environment and act accordingly."

"Police services remain available, headed by Eric Finch. In the spirit of honesty I will tell you he was a Norsefire party member for twenty years. Many of you probably wonder why you should trust him. The answer is because V did."

"I am sure many of you wonder if Norsefire party membership will be held against you. The interim government will not view party membership as a crime. However, there are those who, under the mantle of party membership, committed acts of cruelty which according to the 2000 code are criminal. Those people will face justice."

"We have to look to history to guide the future and decisions cannot be made in a vacuum. Upcoming votes will be based on the 2000 code and whether we want to uphold it, or discard it issue by issue. We have enlisted BTN to help us. It made me very happy when I heard blacklisted items were not destroyed but locked away. The vaults are open and the airwaves will be filled with programming about our history and our legal system as it used to be. BTN has agreed to not only air blacklisted items but will also air debates about the decisions we have to make. I know its hard to believe, but they will no longer a tool of propaganda but part of a free media which is something vital to a free nation."

"Furthermore, the Ear is turned off. The Eye is no longer watching. There is no curfew. Feel free to visit family and friends without fear of reprisals if you're out too late. Read what you want. Talk about anything, everything. Go to the country. The quarantine is lifted, it was never necessary in the first place."

Evey heaved a deep breath. She had agonized about how to phrase what she knew about Saint Mary's and had decided to be honest from the start, but to say it aloud hurt. "We were told Saint Mary's was an act of bioterrorism. It was. We were told Muslim extremists were responsible. They weren't. I have the sad duty to tell you it was a Norsefire experiment which created the disease and it was Chancellor Sutler who released it to overrun us with fear and ride the tide to power. There were a very select few who knew of this experimentation and V, who was among its first victims, has dealt with everyone who was affiliated with creating and releasing Saint Mary's."

Her voice wavered and she could not stop her eyes from watering as she shared her own losses. "My brother died of the disease and when I learned who was really responsible I wanted blood. I am ashamed to admit it. I wanted someone to blame, someone to hate and punish for what happened to my family."

"There is no one left but ourselves." She said the damning words knowing some would not be able to hear her. Even she struggled offering her own excuse of being too young to understand what was going on, but that was moot. The important part was, "Those directly responsible are dead. The rest of us carry the burden of blame because we allowed fear to overrun reason. We didn't ask questions we should have asked. We leapt to judgment against innocent Muslims because it was easier than probing deeper."

"We stand in risk of doing it all over again. It would be easy to blame neighbors and coworkers who belonged to the party, but it would also be very wrong. Most members didn't agree with Norsefire policies anymore than the rest of us. We all know party members had access to better food, jobs, healthcare, schools and a host of other services. A choice between integrity and an empty stomach is not an easy one, and people who chose to eat should not be condemned."

Evey realized she was still angry herself. Well, she had known, but the strength of her anger was more than she anticipated and she had to tell herself as much as her audience that there was no need for vengeance. "To reiterate, those responsible for Saint Mary's are dead. Those responsible for government sponsored terror have been arrested and are being arrested as we speak. More arrests will follow."

"What's the difference you may ask? You've heard many speeches about arrests and responsibility. How do you know things have changed? What makes me any different than Chancellor Sutler?"

Evey had fought hard for this part. Feeling proud of herself Evey continued, "The men and women currently arrested and those being arrested are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. They will have access to all evidence against them and they will be represented by attorneys in court. They will be judged by a jury of their peers and if they are found to be guilty they will be sentenced under the laws of 2000. If they are found innocent they will be set free."

Because all of them had listened to Chancellor Sutler say exactly the same thing, Evey further clarified, "Their trials will be conducted in the open. There will be no backroom deals and no predetermined outcomes. We will have a transparent judicial system, interim government, and hopefully a transparent future government if that is what you choose."

"V chose me. I will never understand why, but I will live up to his confidence as best I can and as his chosen representative I will be the voice of the interim government." That was all she was going to do and Evey wanted that known up front. "However, I will not be part of the future government. My name will not be on any ballot and i will not accept an office if I am written in. I simply want to complete V's work. This coming November 5th the interim government will step down and the government you elect will take over. My work will be done and V's hope will be fulfilled."

"The future is what we make of it. Together we will determine what it will look like for our children and grandchildren. Thank you, and good night."

Evey switched off the camera and as soon as the green light went out she slumped to her knees and wept.

VEV

V sat in the living room watching BTN.

A commentator was reiterating what Evey had just said and she looked relieved. Her words were hopeful and upbeat.

V flipped the channel and again found a commentator discussing Evey's speech. Another channel, another commentator…even the international channels were picking up the story and running with it.

All he had hoped for was happening now.

It was over.

Now.

His work was finally done.

Now.

V reached up and pulled off the Guy Fawkes mask, suddenly feeling suffocated by it. He pulled off the black cloth mask beneath it and his skin was exposed to cool air. He felt hot, like his body was burning….and he was back at Larkhill, walking through the wreckage, triumphant.

He saw the bodies of his enemies lying before him, his feet flamed like a god's as he stepped over them, defeating them just by having the power to keep walking. He was death, walking over the graves of those who sought his ruin and V was happier than he had ever been before.

Suddenly V stood up, the motion as fluid as it had ever been, his arms went above his head, and he was roaring.

VEV

Evey's head snapped up. The sound coming from down the hall was like nothing she had ever heard before. She climbed to her feet and ran.

V stood in the center of the living room, his face uncovered and the emotion on it naked rage. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, and Evey was certain he had finally snapped.

She stopped still in the hallway and sought cover against the wall. She understood. Evey had expected to be elated when the news came, but she had been sobbing since going off the air. It was as if a dam had broken on the inside and things she had not allowed herself to feel had come crashing through.

Her heart was broken. So much had been lost and their victory today seemed hollow and too late….but she knew it was not. It was the greatest day of her life even if it hurt like hell.

V's arms came down and he quieted, his attention turning back to the telly. He slumped to the floor in a cross legged seat and stared. Evey's attention followed his.

A female commentator gushed, "A historic day today as England finally says enough is enough. Moments ago, Evey Hammond, once thought to be a hostage to a terrorist and later believed to be a terrorist herself, went on the air at BTN and told the world England is free from the oppressive regime that ruled it for the last twenty years."

"It has always been whispered the St. Mary's virus was a government experiment gone wrong. Today she confirmed it calling the disease a mechanism of control created and released by the Norsefire party to gain leadership of the last freestanding country in the world."

"Sources on the ground confirm Norsefire agencies used Gestapo tactics to keep citizens under control in the disease ravaged country. Today, at six pm local time, coordinated assaults were carried out against the remaining Norsefire hierarchy which fell. Hundreds of arrests have been made and sources say arrests are on going."

"We have not heard reports of looting or violence yet, most people seem to be staying indoors as Ms. Hammond requested…."

Her co-anchor busted in, "Did Ms. Hammond make any references to V, the terrorist….or should I say liberator….of the English people? He was the man who started this ball rolling after all."

"She did, Dave. She said V had dealt with those responsible for St. Mary's. Later she said those people were dead. We can only assume she was referring to the men and one woman V is known to have killed last year."

"It seems this revolution so far is pretty peaceful." Dave said, smiling.

"Yes, surprisingly so. Of course, Ms. Hammond asked the citizenry to…."

"It is finished." V said in a voice so soft Evey almost did not hear him.

The finality of his tone made Evey think of his death. He had never expected to live to see this day. What must he be thinking? All Evey could think of was the future which was no available to him...to them, together. Wanting to remind V there was something to look forward to she said, "Yes and just begun."

He turned and looked at her, ice blue eyes swimming in tears. "We are free."

Evey bowed her head, acknowledging his sacrifice, "We are thanks to you."

V smiled and crawled the distance between them. With no hesitation he put his arms around her. Evey sank back into his embrace and heard him whisper by her ear, "And you."

The End.

* * *

(33) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – The White Company

**I posted the first chapter of this over two years ago…can you believe it? Time has flown by…for me at least.**

**I am sure to some of you it will seem like I left you hanging, but this story was primarily about V and Evey and only secondarily about the revolution V started. I wanted to keep going until V was able to feel loved.**

**However, how could V really be loved without his great gift to the world being recognized? How could Evey ignore the job V gave her? No, I had to finish the revolution too. I could go into how the new government went and how V and Evey changed over the next year, but I think it would be a let down after all they've already been through….so…the end.**

**I want to thank all of you for sticking with me and giving me a kick in the pants every so often when I needed it. I'd like to especially thank Belmont-Bellamy for not letting me quit the several times I wanted to and to apologize for falling off the face of the map for so long.**

**Thanks to all of you who read or reviewed or put this story on your alerts/favorites lists or all three. It has meant a lot to me.**

**Also, I have a short sequel in mind that will explain the pattern I mentioned. I just could not make it fit in this story. Maybe the next.**

**Again, thanks for all the support!**

**Cheers, Free**


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